<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Who we are by comeon_toparadise</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27692003">Who we are</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeon_toparadise/pseuds/comeon_toparadise'>comeon_toparadise</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>ATEEZ</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, CEO, Car Accidents, Childhood Trauma, Depression, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, San feels so deeply its scary, Sexual Content, Soft Choi San, Suicide Attempt, Wooyoung is bad with feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:47:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>106,869</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27692003</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeon_toparadise/pseuds/comeon_toparadise</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>jung wooyoung is a struggling college student who suddenly finds himself taking up this 'babysitting' job with a hefty amount of cash as payment. </p><p>only...this isn't any ordinary babysitting job. and the 'baby' in question is choi san, the 25 year old ceo of choi's highlight, a well known fashion company in korea...</p><p> </p><p>- crossposted on wattpad</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>157</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>470</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. jung wooyoung doesn't care</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div>
  <p></p>
</div><p><br/>
Wooyoung wakes up that morning the same way he always does -- tired, annoyed and dissatisfied. Eyes blearily taking in his dark, rusty ceiling with its peeling paint, he blinks; once, twice, and then turns on his side and slams 'snooze' on his phone. He doesn't care that he exerts more force than necessary, the old phone's screen was already cracked anyway.</p><p>The next time he wakes up is ten minutes later, and by then he's aware enough that the blurry <em>6:35</em> shining through the dimly lit room and blazing his eyesockets means he'll <em>actually</em> be late if he doesn't get his ass up right now and get ready on time.</p><p>"<em>Shit, shit, shit</em>," Wooyoung swears out loud, kicking off his thin blanket in an instant. He nearly falls over his tiny bed due to his clumsiness, but doesn't have time to think about it or berate himself for his lack of motor skills in the morning because he needs to <em>get the fuck out</em> of his apartment in less than thirty minutes, or the old hag known as his Media college professor will have his head. Most likely.</p><p>Jung Wooyoung isn't one to care much about school. Never had since his elementary school days where learning decided to become a hundred times more difficult and complicated for him, up to the point that nine times out of ten, he'd show up to his classes just because he didn't want to disappoint his parents (who he was already sure he'd disappointed countless times already).</p><p>But Mrs Nam has a penchant of being strict with attendance, which Wooyoung does not understand. He doesn't try to, either, because lately he hasn't been bothered to care about anyone. He doesn't even care about himself.</p><p>The bathroom's a dark, stingy space when Wooyoung enters it. He fumbles hastily for the switch, but this time the bulb doesn't turn on. Oh well, it'll probably work next time. Wooyoung's mind is too occupied to worry about it. It's not like the landlady would listen to his complaints either, not with him already struggling to pay rent on time.</p><p>Wooyoung tries not to stare at himself in the bathroom mirror; at this old, little thing that's lasted a remarkably long time despite the cracks he hasn't had the time, nor the cash, to replace, but like a magnet, the reflective surface draws him in even with the small timeframe he has to work with.</p><p>A burning impatience, and this faint, but lingering melancholy stares right at him through sea green and brown, and his brows furrow as he blinks, irritated with himself. <em>What are you even doing?</em></p><p>Hatred's too strong of a word to describe what Wooyoung feels at the sight of his eyes, but he can't help the slight anger that boils inside him at his reflection. His left eye sparkles a vivid aquamarine, reminding him of a stormy sea at dusk, its colour so bright it <em>disturbs</em> him, just like it almost always does whenever he wakes up.</p><p><em>Heterochromia</em>. That's what the doctors called it. His left eye has looked like that since forever, and as a kid, he'd never minded it, his head all too consumed with things other little children thought about. But his mother detested it. <em>Loathed</em> it, even. She was convinced his eyes were like that since <em>something</em> was wrong somewhere, not listening even when the doctors tried to assure her time and time again that Wooyoung's eyes were healthy.</p><p>Kid Wooyoung didn't take that lightly, and it made him grow more intolerant towards his left eye. Now he doesn't care all too much, but the distaste for his eye still sneaks up on him as soon as he sees it.</p><p>Wooyoung thinks about everything and nothing as he showers, making sure to keep the scrubbing to the minimum even when he knows he'll run late anyway. Sometimes he wonders why he's still <em>trying</em>, why he's still dragging himself to college every weekday despite knowing he'd lost his passion for it long ago.</p><p>The answer quickly hits him. It's because he's used to it. He's used to waking up at a certain time in the morning, used to disliking his left eye, used to dodging conversations with his nosy neighbour whenever he can, used to pushing himself out of bed to attend classes he doesn't give a damn about, and most of all, he's used to this life because it's all he's ever known. It gives him this false sense of security and predictability even when he knows it's nothing but fickle and his life can't be any further from perfect.</p><p>But that's the thing about getting used to something; even if you want to, you <em>can't</em> leave, and it doesn't matter when it kills you inside. <em>It doesn't matter at all</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung flips a brown contact over his left eye, then combs through his long hair like a madman after he's done forcing himself into his worn sneakers, praying to whatever god that exists out there he doesn't actually have some stubble or anything on his face because he'd been in too much of a rush earlier to check for it.</p><p>He rubs a finger over his upper lip as he paces around the shoe box of a kitchen, figuring what he's gonna eat for breakfast. He's elated to find out that <em>yes</em>, he doesn't need to shave, but disappointment quickly combats it when he realizes his cupboards are as bare as the Sahara.</p><p><em>It's whatever</em>, is what he tells himself, over and over again until he starts to believe it. He grabs his things and steps out of his puny one bedroom apartment, averting his gaze just as he sees his neighbour heading out his own apartment. Hopefully, he's invisible to the guy so he can somehow maneuver his way out of this situation before he's seen.</p><p>"<em>Good morning, Wooyoung</em>!"</p><p>Wooyoung jabs his key so hard into the door of his house it almost breaks the metal. Inhaling a deep breath, he turns around, shoulders tensing at his neighbour's eyes on him.</p><p>Kang Yeosang isn't a bad person per se, but ever since he'd moved in he's had this way of being so unbelievably cheerful and happy-go-lucky that it fucks with Wooyoung's mind at times, because he can't <em>stand it</em>. Seeing Yeosang so chatty and bright nearly every morning drives him nuts, but he knows he'll seem like an asshole if he ever voices out his complaint, and so he endures it. Every single time.</p><p>Yeosang's round eyes crinkle once he gets Wooyoung's attention. They're caramel, as warm as the rising sun. "Sleep well?"</p><p>Wooyoung shrugs, a simple action that feels like a burden to do. "I slept well. Thanks."</p><p>"I'm glad to hear that," Yeosang nods, a wide grin on his face. How he manages to look so <em>happy</em> everyday is a mystery to Wooyoung, but Wooyoung's never been fond of mysteries. He doesn't care.</p><p>His grip tightens around his bag's strap, and then he's shoving his other hand into his jeans pocket and focusing his weight on one leg, a surefire way to let Yeosang know he's taking up his time without saying anything.</p><p>"We should go out for some coffee right now. I think you're the type to like coffee."</p><p>Wooyoung <em>is</em> the type, but Yeosang doesn't need to know that. He doesn't need to know <em>anything</em>, because whatever friendship he's trying to build between them isn't going to work. Wooyoung doesn't do friendships -- he <em>can't</em>, and he knows it'll all be pointless anyway. That's how it always goes.</p><p>"Look, Yeosang -- " he cuts in, internally wincing at how harsh his voice sounds. "I need to go now. Sorry."</p><p>Yeosang's lips part to say something, but Wooyoung doesn't wait for it. He looks away and marches off, eager to escape his presence.</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't even know why he's so keen on avoiding Yeosang and his attempts at befriending him, but he can't help it even it makes him look like a dick. Friendships fail all the time.</p><p>He enters the bus after a few minutes of waiting and jams an earbud into his ear at the backseats, blasting music at an inappropriate volume as he absentmindedly observes the busy streets of Seoul. He wonders briefly how it'll feel to stand in the middle of traffic as he waits for a car to hit him.</p><p>It's a morbid, intrusive thought, but he's had those for so long now that they don't affect him anymore. Sometimes, it even <em>humours</em> him.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Mrs Nam's face looks like wrinkled raisin as soon as Wooyoung bustles into the lecture hall. He doesn't apologize because he doesn't give a shit, and ignores the few stares cast his way as he scurries towards the back of the class, already wishing the ninety minute period would end.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>He doesn't pay attention to more than half of what the woman says nor does he read the words plastered across the projected screen, too busy calculating living expenses and fending off unwanted feelings of living uselessly. By the time he manages to arrive at <em>some</em> sort of compromise, students are packing their bags and filing out of the room.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung wills his fingers to stop shaking as he pushing his own books into his bag. He realizes with a sense of detachment he hadn't jotted down a single word all through the class, but at that moment, that is the least of his worries.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>He joins the other students at the front to head to his next course, a lifeless grey blotch in the sea of buzzing, glowing stars that shine with each passing smile and laughter they exchange with each other. But he isn't included -- of course he isn't -- because people only acknowledge what they're used to and what they're familiar with, and he isn't one of them. They aren't one of his, either.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>But, it shouldn't matter anyway. <em>He doesn't care</em>.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p><br/>
Wooyoung fucking hates retail. He hates arriving at work right after his draining, pointless classes just to have some customer with a stick up her ass yelling in his face because he supposedly couldn't get her the right goddamn <em>colour swatches</em> and hell, Wooyoung doesn't even know anymore.</p><p>"You asked for fuchsia and burgundy," Wooyoung explains as calmly as he can, but the lady's face is just getting redder and redder. "There they are. Those are what we have, so please -- "</p><p>"These are not what I asked for! Can't you do your job properly?!" The woman screams, voice high-pitched and shredding the insides of Wooyoung's eardrums. The little boy beside her cowers due to the intensity of her voice. "My son needs another play room for his birthday and we can't risk getting the wrong purple paint for the walls!"</p><p><em>Oh</em>. Wooyoung's jaw tenses, unable to stop himself from eyeing the customer in front of him. It's now he notices the air of authority the woman seems to carry, catches sight of the black card casually dangling between her blood red manicured nails and the condescending way she forms her words, as if she could be doing much better things right now than talking to him.</p><p>Anger sparks beneath his skin at the bitter, hilarious irony of it all. Here is he, stuck with a job he despises just because he doesn't want to get kicked out of his house at the end of the month, but all this woman cares about is getting the '<em>right</em>' purple shade for her son's new room.</p><p>Said woman snaps her fingers in front of his face.</p><p>"<em>Wow</em>," she sneers when Wooyoung comes back to the present, "you can even <em>afford</em> dozing off while <em>I'm</em> talking to you? What kind of store is this?! I want to speak to the manager!"</p><p>And then the owner arrives, and then there's <em>two</em> people arguing and cursing at Wooyoung, and he's <em>sick</em> of it. The kid starts to bawl at some point. Wooyoung wants to bawl too.</p><p>By the time his shift ends, Wooyoung wants to retreat back into his apartment and hide there until eternity. But he'll be lying if he says he wants to spend the rest of this stupid day rotting away in the dump he paid monthly rent for.</p><p>Wooyoung, like a majority of people on this planet, has a problem. Or maybe he's the only one who has a problem, because it's when he feels his lowest that everyone else seems to be having the <em>greatest</em> time of their lives.</p><p>Maybe he's supposed to be the villain, and his life isn't about <em>him</em>, but <em>other</em> people. Maybe that's why no matter how hard he tries, <em>nothing</em> seems to go his way.</p><p>People aren't supposed to <em>care</em> about villains. They're supposed to hate them and root for the heroes, so that's why when Wooyoung saunters in <em>Louise's</em> that shadowy evening, the club's neon pink and acidic green lights searing behind his eyelids like highlighter pens each time he closes his eyes, he doesn't feel an inch of guilt for his liver as he props himself on a barstool and gulps down his first (and hopefully the first of many) drink for the night. It's something strong that's fortunately cheap as well, one that burns down his throat and leaves him a sweaty, shivering mess, aching for <em>more</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung gets himself a second and a third, keeping his gaze lowered when people flock around him, flaunting their bodies as they grind under the numerous, headache-inducing strobe lights. Fuck, he's drinking <em>alone</em> and he's got nobody to dance with, and it's a stupid, childish thought but he thinks it nonetheless. He can't get any more pathetic than this.</p><p>But he doesn't care.</p><p>Wooyoung wants to drink until he can't <em>feel</em> anything anymore; wants to drink until he's <em>gone</em>, away, never to be seen again any anyone else. Then he won't have to wake up at ungodly hours of the morning to attend courses he fucking <em>hates</em>, won't have to slave away at a stupid job that barely pays for his living expenses, and he won't be foolish enough to waste money he can't afford to lose on alcohol that'll just hand him a killer headache later on.</p><p>He won't have to exist anymore.</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't notice the new face sitting by the bar until he hears a low whistle, followed by a chuckle and then words he can't be bothered to eavesdrop in on. It's when he feels eyes on him that he finally looks up, and when he does, he's met with ocean blue hair and a pair of chocolate brown eyes that are far too sharp, far too <em>aware</em> of their surroundings.</p><p><em>He's not drunk</em>, some distant voice whispers at the back of Wooyoung's brain. He doesn't know why he thinks of that.</p><p>The man says something, but the thumping bass and the hoard of thoughts clogging Wooyoung's mind don't allow him to hear.</p><p>"What?" Wooyoung has to strain his voice, already expecting the blue haired man across from him to get angry or glare at him like he was the gum stuck beneath his shoes.</p><p>Only, the guy does nothing of the sort. He leans in slightly, and Wooyoung inhales a whiff of expensive-smelling cologne.</p><p>"You sure you don't want something else? I mean, I don't really condone getting wasted, but," the man's arched, pointed nose scrunches a little, "those have no substance at all."</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't know why, but he feels ashamed. He knows he shouldn't feel that way, knows he can't let some stranger's passing words get to him because, isn't he supposed to not care? He <em>doesn't</em> care, but he <em>does</em>. Maybe it's the man's pristine cashmere sweater, the rolex on his wrist and his many other accessories, or the calm yet charismatic way he talks.</p><p>Wooyoung settles on a shrug he hopes appears nonchalant enough. "It's whatever."</p><p>A small smile stretches across the blue haired man's face, alert eyes surveying him from head to toe. If Wooyoung didn't know better he'd have assumed the guy was checking him out, but his stares are...<em>observant</em>, as if assessing him.</p><p>Blue glances at the bartender, a swan-like man with blond hair, a couple tattoos and a pretty face. Blond smiles once they lock eyes.</p><p>"I'd like to talk a bit more with you," Blue tells Wooyoung once the bartender leaves. "He's Seonghwa, by the way. The bartender. If you want any drinks from now on, you can get them from him. It's on me."</p><p>Wooyoung's eyes widen. "What the <em>fuck</em>?" He stammers before he can stop himself.</p><p>Blue laughs, his straight white teeth on display. "I don't know why, but I like you already. I think he will too."</p><p>"Who will?" Wooyoung questions, as lost as ever.</p><p>The bartender -- <em>Seonghwa</em> -- arrives with a new drink in hand. It's rosy pink, shimmering like glass under the strobe lights.</p><p>"A pink martini. A much better choice than whatever you were having," Blue explains with an almost bored tone. When Seonghwa attends to another customer, he stares at Wooyoung and gestures at the drink.</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't know what is happening. One second, he's alone, and then someone he's never seen before is conversing with him like they're good friends.</p><p>"Why do I feel like you're judging me?" Wooyoung blurts, warily eyeing the martini.</p><p>"I'm not. And it's not drugged, either." Blue fiddles with one of the rings on his fingers. "Name's Kim Hongjoong. You?"</p><p>Wooyoung hesitates, and once again, the guy -- Kim Hongjoong -- laughs.</p><p>"You're smart, I'll give you that. But I'm not dangerous, at least, not when it involves clothing." Kim Hongjoong notices Wooyoung's confusion and grins. "Tell me, do you recognize me from anywhere?"</p><p>It's then Wooyoung takes a sip of the martini, taste buds satisfied at its sweetness. He allows his eyes to scan Hongjoong's face, and shakes his head. "I...I don't. Am I supposed to?"</p><p>Hongjoong waves him off easily. "No, it's not important. I just... There's this <em>thing</em> I'm offering. A job, if you will. Would you be interested?"</p><p>Wooyoung freezes, heart pounding against his chest at the way Hongjoong's watching him. "What? W-What job?"</p><p>If there's one thing Wooyoung hates, it's the way he stutters his words anytime he's nervous. Makes him feel like a joke.</p><p>Hongjoong leans closer. "Something like babysitting. Yes."</p><p>"You don't even know my name."</p><p>"Yeah, I know." Something twinkles in Hongjoong's eyes. "But I pride myself in being a good judge of character. I think you're alright."</p><p><em>I'm not alright</em>, Wooyoung wants to argue, because he's truly not. He's not fine and his life is fucked up -- <em>he</em> is fucked up, but of course, he can't say anything like that. Not when he possibly has a new job offer in his hands.</p><p>"I know what you're thinking: Babysitting? That can't pay much, can it?"</p><p>Wooyoung gulps. "I -- I wasn't -- "</p><p>Hongjoong holds his hand up to stop him, and Wooyoung smacks his lips shut. "It's okay. The world runs on money. <em>Having</em> money is good too, there's no need to be ashamed of liking it." He points at the martini, which Wooyoung finds himself downing. He chuckles, staring at him all amused. "But don't worry, it'll pay well. Now, can I get a name to that face?"</p><p>"...Wooyoung," Wooyoung coughs out, wiping his lip. He hopes he didn't make a grave mistake by relaying his name to this guy named Hongjoong. "But, I don't know..."</p><p>Hongjoong slides out of his stool, that same impish smile on his lips. "Let's go on a drive, Wooyoung. I feel like you don't believe me, but I want to convince you otherwise."</p><p>"A drive?"</p><p>"Mhm. It's too loud here," Kim Hongjoong answers, and something in his tone makes Wooyoung agree.</p><p>And when Wooyoung enters the man's car, a black Aston Martin with deep brown leather seats that only confirms that amount of money Kim Hongjoong most likely has, both males talk briefly, and then the ride is silent. It's quite a lengthy one too, and Wooyoung is about to call bluff when Kim Hongjoong drives into a spacious parking space alongside a congregation of other cars just as spotless and as luxurious looking as his car.</p><p>"You see that?" Hongjoong says after a beat. He's pointing at something up ahead, and when when Wooyoung finally snaps out of his thoughts and looks, his eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.</p><p>In the distance lay a set of lit up skyscrapers that stir with workers despite how late it is. <em>Choi's</em><em> Highlight</em> decorates the one in the middle, the cursive words glowing like molten gold against the busy backdrop of the city.</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't know how he hadn't noticed how <em>familiar</em> this place was, doesn't know how he hadn't noticed all the times he'd glance at the digital billboards displayed across Seoul and see that name on it, soon distracted by real life and how unfairly cruel it is.</p><p>But now, everything rushes back to him in a blur of clear memories, Hongjoong's low chuckle easing into his ears.</p><p>"That's where I work," the man says. "Neat, right?"</p><p>Wooyoung thinks he's dreaming.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. jung wooyoung meets choi san</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"You still don't believe me," is what Kim Hongjoong states, alerting Wooyoung's attention. Their gazes meet.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"No," Wooyoung pauses, swallows. "I'm just a little bit...<em>overwhelmed</em>?"</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He's sure he doesn't make much sense because his words are just mumbles, no match for Hongjoong's which are clear and straight-to-the-point. Wooyoung wants to blame the alcohol he's consumed, but he can't blame something he willingly decided to partake in. He can't blame something he'll most likely use again.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Hongjoong's eyes crinkle as a result of his smile. They remind Wooyoung of dark lakes reflecting off the moon at midnight. "It's fine. I can kind of understand why."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>In the next second, he's opening his side of the car and stepping out, a cool gush of air seeping in as soon as he does. Goosebumps form on Wooyoung's skin, and it's then he remembers he doesn't like the cold all that much.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"What're you still doing inside there?" Hongjoong asks, but it's not in a patronising way. "Come on out. Leave your bag in the car; it's safe."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung obeys, fumbling with the door handle before exiting with far less poise and grace than Hongjoong. But the man doesn't mind, nor has he noticed, apparently, because he's already strolling towards those skyscrapers, car keys twirling about in his small, lean fingers.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Hongjoong turns to watch him, hair as blue as the night sky. Wooyoung jogs up to him, unable to meet his eyes. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It's a thing he's never been able to do; maintain eye contact, that is. Just looking into someone's eyes felt like an invasion of privacy, as if forcefully trying to unravel their deepest secrets. It fills Wooyoung with so much unease whenever he catches himself holding prolonged gazes with someone else.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Tired already?" Kim Hongjoong questions. A man steps out of the sliding doors of <em>Choi's</em><em> Highlight </em>and casts him a friendly greeting, which Hongjoong cheerfully returns. A part of Wooyoung wonders how greeting people can come so naturally for everyone but himself.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"No," Wooyoung says once the other man disappears. "No. Let's...go in, I guess."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Hongjoong chuckles a bit at his word choice, and then their stepping into the ground floor of the company. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung doesn't have any expectations, yet he's still blown away by the sight that greets him. The area they're in is <em>massive</em>, stretching far and wide with people -- customers, workers alike -- walking, talking, shopping. Everywhere <em>glows</em>, shiny and spotless like gemstones, corners filled to the brim with designer clothes, shoes, accessories that all seem to <em>dazzle</em> as well.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung remembers stepping into a mall for the first time as a kid, and how awestruck he felt back then. He feels like that again, only now he's older and knows he can't afford any of this.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He watches his surroundings all detached like he's an outsider -- which he <em>is</em>. Suddenly he feels out of place.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Hongjoong's feet are quick, brisk, passing by the exquisite displays with not so much of a glance as Wooyoung struggles to pick up behind him. Wooyoung sees the large fir trees entwined by beaming fairy lights and ornaments in a few places, and wonders why they're already there when it's only the middle of November.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He shakes the thought off. It doesn't matter.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Men and women Wooyoung's never seen before greet Hongjoong every once in a while, most of them virtually ignoring Wooyoung's presence, which he convinces himself he doesn't mind much anyway.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Where are we going?" Wooyoung asks when they arrive on the second floor, hating how insecure his tone sounds. </p>
</div><p><br/>"To my office," Hongjoong answers. Before he can add anything else though, a new person shows up, a bundle of fabric in his arms. He's tall, with neatly combed chestnut brown hair and round, thin-framed glasses perched on his lifted cheeks.</p><p>"<em>Hongjooong</em>," the guy hollers the blue haired man's name, bouncing up to them like an overexcited puppy. "You're still here? I thought you'd already left."</p><p>He tries to hug Hongjoong but fails due to the fabric he's holding, which Wooyoung would've found some humour in if he wasn't so uncomfortable right now.</p><p>"The flight's tomorrow night, Yunho. I'm <em>sure</em> I still have a bit of time left before then," Hongjoong replies, his laugh heartfelt.</p><p>'Yunho' then looks at Wooyoung, eyes large and sparkling. They remind Wooyoung of Yeosang, but he erases the thought almost instantly.</p><p>"Who is this?" Yunho whispers, but it's so loud Wooyoung can hear it.</p><p>"This is Wooyoung," Hongjoong introduces.</p><p>"Wooyoung..." Yunho looks expectant as if he's expecting <em>something</em> else, something else that justifies why he's here with someone like Hongjoong. And to be honest, Wooyoung doesn't know why he is either.</p><p>"I have something to discuss with him here," Hongjoong continues, pointedly meeting Yunho's gaze. It takes a second for realization to flicker in his brown eyes.</p><p>"<em>Ah</em>," Yunho nods. Then, as if a switch's been flipped, he juts his free palm out at Wooyoung, smiling broadly. "I'm Jeong Yunho. Sourcing Manager."</p><p>Wooyoung feels self-conscious in his basic red hoodie and jeans under Yunho's welcoming gaze, but shakes his hand nonetheless. He's sure his confusion is apparent even with this, because he soon hears Hongjoong's laughter.</p><p>"He's Fabric Guy," Hongjoong teases, while Yunho pouts at the overly simplistic name. Wooyoung nods, finally understanding.</p><p>"Fabric Guy," Wooyoung repeats. "Got it."</p><p>Yunho isn't pouting anymore. He looks amused now. He exchanges stares with Hongjoong and chuckles. "I think I know what you mean now."</p><p>Wooyoung blinks. "What?"</p><p>"Nothing," both men exclaim, at the exact same time. Nothing suspicious about that.</p><p>"I gotta go now," Yunho says, tone faintly apologetic. "You know they just delivered new samples and I am <em>stocked</em> for tonight."</p><p>"Remember to take a break!" Hongjoong yells when Yunho runs off, the taller giving him a hurried thumbs up in response. "Now, where we we? Oh yes! My office."</p><p>Hongjoong crosses over to the first elevator he sees, and Wooyoung dutifully follows. He presses ten, then shoves his hands into the pockets of his trousers and waits.</p><p>Wooyoung keeps silent, that is until a thought enters his head. "Hey, uh -- "</p><p>Hongjoong looks his way, but he averts his eyes before they can meet.</p><p>Wooyoung internally curses. The man isn't mean, and he's not harmful either, so he should just suck it up and stop being a wuss. "What's your job? I mean -- what do you do here?"</p><p>"I'm the Creative Director, but I'm sorta...<em>running</em> this company right now, for lack of a better word."</p><p>"Oh. What about the CEO?" Wooyoung isn't too well versed in business, and especially not in the fashion industry, but isn't the CEO supposed to be running the company?</p><p>"He's kind of MIA right now," Hongjoong mutters a bit distractedly. The elevator opens and the topic is dropped, and then they enter <em>another</em> elevator.</p><p>"So, you know how I want you to babysit, right?" Hongjoong starts after a few minutes.</p><p>"Do you have a child?" Wooyoung asks. Hongjoong doesn't look <em>that</em> old, maybe only a couple years older than him, but he won't be surprised if the man did.</p><p>"Oh my god, <em>no</em>," Hongjoong laughs, eyes a tad bit offended. "Kids aren't on my to-do list, and probably never will be. I just need your help, because like you've heard earlier, I'll be catching a flight to Amsterdam tomorrow night, so I'm <em>really</em> glad I met you today."</p><p>"<em>Wow</em>," Wooyoung mumbles under his breath, because not only is this on short notice, but Kim Hongjoong had been planning to leave the country and only met him <em>tonight</em>.</p><p>"I know right?" Hongjoong chuckles, stepping out of the elevator once its doors slide open. "But I'm kinda desperate. I'm meeting old guys for a bunch of business deals and I don't know how long that's gonna take me, <em>so</em>," he clasps his hands, a big smile on his face. "Are you in? Yes, or no?"</p><p>Wooyoung surveys the hall they're now on. It's considerably darker than the ground floor, that's for sure, with a few people bustling here and there, and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook Seoul's superb skyline. He feels like an intruder.</p><p>"I mean...do I have a choice?"</p><p>"...Not really?" Hongjoong cackles, and then he's taking out a card to press against a closed door. It blinks green, unlocking instantly. The man opens it, letting them in.</p><p>The room they step into gleams a warm amber, complete with elegant, earth-toned furniture and iridescent city lights swimming outside the expansive windows.</p><p>Hongjoong runs across the polished marble floors like an eager kid and stops next to a large desk, before staring right at Wooyoung. "What? I'm only twenty seven. I'm not <em>that</em> old."</p><p>"I wasn't -- " Wooyoung rushes to apologize, but Hongjoong's already in his chair, swivelling around.</p><p>He ushers the younger man over with a pen. "Take a seat, and look through the papers in front of you."</p><p>"Papers?" Wooyoung shifts past the first page, TERMS AND CONDITIONS glaring at him in bold font. "What..."</p><p>"No need to look so intimidated. I just like to keep things classy," Hongjoong twirls the pen around. "And, you followed me all the way here, didn't you? I'm <em>pretty sure</em> you want this."</p><p>Wooyoung <em>does</em>. Not to babysit to be exact, but he wants another job that doesn't involve his lousy manager and customers who treat him like shit. He wants something different, something <em>new</em>. "I... Yes. Yes I do."</p><p>"How old are you?"</p><p>"I'm turning twenty two."</p><p>"You're kind of young." The skin between Hongjoong's plucked brows knead, but it quickly loosens. "But that doesn't matter, now does it? I'm guessing you're in university?"</p><p>"Yeah," Wooyoung clears his throat. Here is Kim Hongjoong, 27 years old with a commendable career while Wooyoung is barely scraping by to make ends meet. He feels like an amateur.</p><p>"Well, it won't clash <em>too</em> much with what you're gonna be doing," Hongjoong states. "You're going to have to switch houses while you're on the job, and keep things in order. The details are in the agreement."</p><p>Wooyoung freezes just as he reads over what Hongjoong's talking about. "Switch houses?"</p><p>"Yeah. You're gonna babysit, remember?" Hongjoong smirks. "Might as well live with him. Don't worry, nothing bad will happen."</p><p>"I know. But..."</p><p>"But what?"</p><p>Truth is, Wooyoung has nothing to say. He reads nothing he specifically finds a problem with, and with the amount of wealth Hongjoong undoubtedly possesses, he figures he won't have to worry about money any time soon. It's relieving.</p><p>So, he just shrugs, which the older man smiles at.</p><p>"I'm guessing you're okay with it?"</p><p>Wooyoung takes the pen Hongjoong hands him. "...Yes."</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The whole transaction takes place more smoothly than Wooyoung expects. That night is spent with both males knowing more about each other, exchanging tidbits that aren't too personal but serve their purpose. Even with this, though, Wooyoung has no idea who he's babysitting.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>But it doesn't matter when he arrives at his battered one-bedroom apartment and knocks out on his bed just as he takes off his contact and yanks off his socks.</p>
</div><p><br/>Wooyoung wakes up the next morning with a killer headache, bad breath and something heavy weighing on his chest. He ignores how cold and empty his room is and sits up, hating how gross he feels.</p><p>His stomach twists and turns and then he's rushing to the bathroom, throwing up into the toilet. Fuck, he feels <em>really</em> gross.</p><p>He flushes it away, but the angonizingly heavy feeling lingers, caging him and squeezing his heart with its iron fist. He made a bad choice, but he doesn't care. Not when he'll probably do it again.</p><p>He washes his mouth and brushes his teeth at the bathroom sink, ignoring his different coloured eyes as much as he can.</p><p>When Wooyoung returns to his room, lightheaded and mind blank, his phone buzzes with a phone call where it'd been discarded on his pillow. He picks it up without looking at the caller ID, wondering who in the world would call him so early. It's not like he has anyone who misses him.</p><p>"<em>Good morning </em><em>Wooyoung-ssi</em><em>.</em>" Shit. "<em>You've already packed your things up, right?"</em> Oh shit. "<em>I'm already on my way</em>." Shit, shit, shit.</p><p><em>Fuck</em>. Wooyoung stands, legs all wobbly. He wants to bang his head against a wall, because how could he have <em>forgotten</em>?</p><p>"<em>Wooyoung</em>?"</p><p>"Yes! <em>Yeah</em> -- I have," Wooyoung scratches his head. "Uh, how far are off you?"</p><p>"<em>Not too far. I'll arrive in about...forty minutes</em>?"</p><p><em>I have forty minutes to get ready and get my shit together</em>. Wooyoung tugs harshly at his dark hair, about to go crazy. "Oh, okay. And, good morning to you too."</p><p>He can <em>hear</em> Hongjoong's smile in his voice. "<em>Thank you</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung's hands clumsily pull off his clothes and then he grabs a spare towel, on the way to take the most anxious shower he's ever taken.</p><p>He refrains from overthinking as he snatches the small amount of clothes he has off the hangers, and everything else he can, because he knows thinking too much will prevent him from leaving this dump behind, as he's been so used to it for so long.</p><p>After all his things have been packed into two small luggages (because his belongings are <em>that</em> few), he stops in front of the bathroom mirror and finds himself observing the outfit he chose.</p><p>A lilac turtleneck hangs a little loosely on his frame, tucked into ripped, acid-washed skinny jeans. Wooyoung can't help but think back to his and Hongjoong's meeting last night, wondering what the man must've thought about his drab clothes. Probably nothing nice.</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't <em>want</em> to care what others think, but he's been conditioned into doing so since the beginning, and it's frustrating. He stares at himself again, a little braver as his left eye is brown now.</p><p>He thinks he looks okay.</p><p>His phone vibrates and a message bubble enters.</p><p>- <b>kim hongjoong</b><br/><em>i'm here</em> 😊😊</p><p>He texts like a dad, but Wooyoung won't ever tell him that.</p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>okay</em>!</p><p>Wooyoung drags the suitcases outside, immediately hit with the crisp winter wind and... <em>cookies</em>?</p><p>He looks ahead and there Hongjoong is by a navy blue BMW, donned in a snug long coat and a multicoloured turtleneck, munching on a cookie. He's smiling, conversing with...Yeosang.</p><p>"Wooyoung!" Hongjoong exclaims when he spots the younger. He flashes him an award-winning smile. "There you are. I was just talking to Yeosang over here. He makes <em>really</em> great cookies by the way. Have you tried them? I bet you have."</p><p>Wooyoung slightly bows his head, not really in the mood to talk anymore. "Morning, Yeosang."</p><p>"Good morning, Wooyoung." Yeosang's smile is soft, but his eyes are alert, intuitive as always. They take in his luggages. "Moving out?"</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>Hongjoong helps Wooyoung put them in the vehicle, and then he's waving Yeosang goodbye, entering the BMW. Wooyoung follows quickly before his neighbour can say anything else to him.</p><p>Hongjoong doesn't say much at all for the entire ride, only mentions he's already paid off the landlady, which Wooyoung appreciates. The sky's a musky, dull peach, the houses on his lane looking something out of an apocalypse.</p><p>Hongjoong keeps driving, even as he passes the richer suburbs only the well-off citizens have. Wooyoung admires their size, fancy decors and trimmed lawns, before realizing he sees less and less houses.</p><p>"Don't worry," Hongjoong assures, seeing the baffled look on Wooyoung's face. "We're almost there."</p><p>'There' is a house that doesn't even look like an house, considering how <em>enormous</em> it is. A mansion greets them as the car rolls past an open gate manned by two guys, slipping into a clean driveway paralleled by bonsai trees and a mesh of vibrant, healthy flowers.</p><p>Hongjoong parks, and heads out of the BMW which Wooyoung doesn't notice until the older man chides him out.</p><p>"<em>This</em> is where you'll be staying from today," Hongjoong announces, gesturing at the mansion. "It's nice, isn't it?"</p><p>Nice is an understatement. Wooyoung isn't one to fawn over housing architecture, but his eyes never leave the building. It's a modern stylish mansion with over four storeys, its wide fiberglass doors decorated with beautifully carved designs that give it a homely feel.</p><p>Warm white light filters out the windows of the first floor, and Wooyoung gulps at the realization that the person in there's probably awake.</p><p>"I know you've already sighed the NDA, but you seriously can't say anything," Hongjoong gently commands, and it makes Wooyoung even more nervous.</p><p>Hongjoong doesn't hesitate to press the doorbell, and before Wooyoung can blink, the doors are pulled open, a pair of arms flinging around Hongjoong's body and dragging him in.</p><p>"<em>Hongjoongie</em>!"</p><p>Hongjoong laughs, the sound more tender than anything Wooyoung's ever heard from him. He strokes the person's hair, embracing him more tightly than Wooyoung is used to. "Hi, lovely. How was your night?"</p><p>"Uh...same as always. Minnie had to leave a little earlier last night."</p><p>"I'm sorry. You must've felt lonely, right?"</p><p>"Mhm!"</p><p>Hongjoong glances at Wooyoung, mouthing at him to enter. Once he does, he adds, "Hey, Sannie. I brought someone over. He's gonna keep you company while I'm gone."</p><p>That's when the person hugging Hongjoong finally looks up, allowing Wooyoung to see his face.</p><p>He doesn't look like a kid, but he's <em>beautiful</em>, with flawless bone structure, and shoulder-length black hair that has a silver stripe down in the middle.</p><p>He's also very, <em>very</em> familiar.</p><p>Wooyoung's breath hitches when it dawns on him. He's seen that face on countless billboards, seen it grace the covers of those fashion magazines he actively avoided.</p><p>The man in front of him dressed head to toe in fuzzy pjs is no child, but instead none other than <em>Choi San</em>, CEO of Choi's Highlight.</p><p>Wooyoung's sure his shock is evident guessing by the way Hongjoong grins and how Choi San's eyes darken.</p><p>"Why is he here?" Choi San asks, voice unexpectedly cold. "I don't like him, get him out of here."</p><p>Wooyoung averts his eyes, a lump stuck in his throat as a flurry of emotions swell up in his chest.</p><p>But Hongjoong hardly looks deterred. "I brought Wooyoung here because he's okay, Sannie. You'll like him."</p><p>"<em>I don't</em>."</p><p>A part of Wooyoung wants to turn around and leave, forget about this whole thing altogether, even when he knows it's stupid and he doesn't have a choice in it anymore. But that doesn't mean Choi San's behaviour towards him doesn't fuck with his feelings.</p><p>"He's gonna be living with you now, so don't be rude," Hongjoong continues, and then they're exchanging words Wooyoung can't hear and doesn't care to.</p><p>He wishes he'd just stayed home, even if disappearing off from the face of the Earth sounds like the better choice.</p><p>Choi San looks at him again, so Wooyoung does the respectful thing and dips his head slightly, loathing how the older's gaze alone affects him this much.</p><p>"He's nice and he's going to steer you off trouble, alright? Treat him well, and I'm sure you both are gonna get along just fine," Hongjoong tells San.</p><p>San huffs loudly and runs off in his pjs, something Wooyoung never imagined he'd see until today. In fact, witnessing a freaking <em>CEO</em> acting like a kid is something Wooyoung had never, ever anticipated.</p><p>Hongjoong reads the questions in his eyes, because he pats his back. "Don't mind him. He's just in a mood. He's usually such a nice Little."</p><p>Wooyoung's nose scrunches in confusion. "Little?"</p><p>"San acts younger whenever he's stressed out. It usually lasts a few hours, but he's been in that state of mind repeatedly for a month now." Hongjoong smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Only a few people know about this, and you're part of that few now. Your job is just to make sure he's okay, to take care of him. Nothing gets out, and you'll continue to get paid."</p><p>There's <em>something else</em> in Hongjoong's eyes, something else he's choosing to withhold from Wooyoung.</p><p>Wooyoung nods, busying himself with looking over the vast size of the sitting room alone, at its pleasing furniture and indoor plants. "Okay."</p><p>Hongjoong's smile widens, a lot more relaxed now. "Thank you."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. choi san hates veggies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>
      <em>« only know you drive a fancy car</em>
    </b>
    <br/>
    <b>
      <em>but don't wanna know who you </em>
    </b>
    <b>
      <em>really</em>
    </b>
    <b>
      <em> are »</em>
    </b>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>It's awkward. So awkward Wooyoung can feel it in his veins, <em>taste</em> it. It renders him frozen, unable to make himself useful. He stands in his new room (he's been here for a while), hands in his pockets as his eyes navigate every nook and cranny of the area, trying to find...<em>something</em>. But he doesn't know what.</p><p>The room, by his standards, is <em>perfect</em>. Large enough to contain a queen-sized bed and a colossal walk-in closet and <em>still</em> leave enough room for Wooyoung to walk around freely, but it makes him feel small in comparison. Like a tiny, needless speck of dust tainting the room's perfection. And that intimidates him.</p><p>If <em>this</em> is the size of his room when he's only a guest, Wooyoung can't even imagine how <em>Choi San's</em> room looks. He bets he even has more than one room, of course he does.</p><p>The thought of the guy -- the <em>CEO</em> -- snaps Wooyoung out of the daze he's in. Suddenly, he's not admiring his room anymore, anxiety lighting his insides on fire. Kim Hongjoong left a while ago after a couple more words and instructions, and after that Wooyoung had been more than eager to retreat inside this room, and San had disappeared as well.</p><p>Wooyoung can't hear anything, and that only elevates his nervousness. <em>Dumbass, you're supposed to be outside. That's what you're being paid for</em>.</p><p>The thought makes him wince, because it's true. He's not here because he did anything to deserve this luxury, he's here because he's on a paycheck. He tells himself he doesn't care, that he <em>shouldn't</em>. He's just happy he's found a way out of his predicament, even if it's temporary.</p><p>A knock pounds against the door at that second, and then it's pulled open, a mop of fiery orange curls filling in Wooyoung's vision.</p><p>It's not Choi San, but a guy Wooyoung has never seen before, and he's not sure if that makes him more relieved or not. For a moment, the stranger peers at him through unreadable, scrutinizing eyes, and Wooyoung shuffles on his feet, shoulders tense.</p><p>He clears his throat, the sound echoing embarrassingly through the large bedroom. "Uhm, hello."</p><p>The stranger pauses, and then he scratches his tangerine coloured hair, a sort of apologetic smile smoothing over his chiseled features. "Ah -- sorry. Forgot my glasses and I'm not <em>too</em> used to the contacts yet. Did I glare or something?"</p><p>Wooyoung blinks, once, twice, brows wrinkling in puzzlement. "W-What?"</p><p>The stranger fully steps in dressed in overalls, and he's even <em>taller</em> up close, plump lips upturned to reveal a lone dimple. A delectable aroma of baked goods wafts behind him, briefly distracting Wooyoung.</p><p>"I tend to glare sometimes without my glasses. Hope it didn't make you uncomfortable?" The unknown guy explains further, even when Wooyoung doesn't need him to. He's stuck in one of those situations again, where someone talks a bit too long to him while he just wants to leave.</p><p>Wooyoung cracks a small, painful smile. "Oh, it's okay. You didn't make me uncomfortable."</p><p>The man holds out his hand to shake, and that's when Wooyoung notices he has oven mitts on. The man notices as well, because he hurriedly pulls the right one off with an abashed laugh.</p><p>"I'm Mingi. Song Mingi," he introduces just as Wooyoung shakes his hand. It's soft but firm, and makes Wooyoung's hand feel like a limp noodle in comparison. "I'm a Chef. <em>The</em> chef, actually, because I cook sometimes for Sannie."</p><p>Wooyoung takes note of the casual way Song Mingi addresses Choi San, and he guesses they must be close. He quickly nods. "I'm Jung Wooyoung. Nice to meet you."</p><p>"Likewise. You're the new guy, right?"</p><p>"Hm?"</p><p>"You're the guy Kim Hongjoong called me yesterday about," Mingi repeats.</p><p>"Uh, yeah."</p><p>Mingi nods. A thick silence follows, one where both males don't really know how to proceed, but Mingi soon breaks it.</p><p>"I made breakfast. If you want, you can go change into something more..." Mingi searches for the right word, "...<em>comfortable</em>. I mean, you <em>are</em> living here now aren't you?"</p><p>Somehow, Wooyoung has forgotten that. But he nods, returning the smile Mingi shoots him. "I will. Uh, I'll be out in a sec."</p><p>"Take your time," Mingi's fingers rest on the door handle, "but not too much time else the food will get cold."</p><p>Wooyoung gulps once he steps into the walk-in closet, coming across the life-size mirror situated at the edge. He makes the mistake of looking at his reflection. Even with his neatly styled hair and the absence of any skin blemishes, the hollowness in his eyes is still as clear as day. Faint rings of purple circulate them, making him appear as exhausted as he feels. He hates it.</p><p>Wooyoung looks through the pathetically bare wardrobe and pulls out a black shirt and sweatpants casual enough for the house, but not too casual that it makes him look like a slob. He decides he looks fine, inhales a deep breath, and steps out.</p><p>Hongjoong had shown him the directions from his bedroom to the dining room before he left, but Wooyoung is back to being disorientated as he takes in the long, white marble halls, wondering which way is which.</p><p>He smells the food again, and decides to follow it to lead him to his destination. It works, and his mouth drops.</p><p>When Mingi said he '<em>cooked</em> <em>sometimes'</em> for Choi San, Wooyoung thought he meant meeting the guy sometimes to cook him a small meal or something. At least, that's how Mingi made it sound. But the sight that greets him does <em>not</em> look like a meal or two.</p><p>Plates of food overflow the dining table lengthy enough to host ten people. Toppling pancakes drizzled with syrup, bacon, berries -- even <em>chicken</em>, fill every space available, mouthwatering and yummy. In the middle of it all, looking out of place, is a whole pizza, and it's strangely the only thing Wooyoung feels like he's allowed to eat.</p><p>"Oh -- there you are!" Mingi says, sauntering out of the kitchen.</p><p>"This...this is <em>amazing</em>." Wooyoung stares at the table again. "How did you..."</p><p>Mingi laughs, features softening. "It's nothing much, but thank you. You can take a seat anywhere you like, but not the ones closest to the head of the table. That's where San sits."</p><p>"Oh, uh -- "</p><p>Choi San himself appears out of nowhere, a round plushie clutched in his grip as he marches towards the table with a sullen look on his face. Instantly, Wooyoung stiffens, but Mingi's as relaxed as ever.</p><p>"San," he speaks, "no plushies at the table. You know that."</p><p>San doesn't reply, nor does he put the plushie down, but he <em>does</em> look up, skin all soft looking and dewy, and his eyes starlit. His inscrutable gaze cuts through Wooyoung like a knife, causing the younger man to quickly look away.</p><p>"<em>San</em>," Mingi presses, tone more stern this time around.</p><p><em>Don't be afraid to lecture him</em>. Hongjoong's final words ring loudly in Wooyoung's head.</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't know what possesses him at that moment, but he suddenly finds himself standing in front of San.</p><p>The man's eyes are sharp, showcasing surprise, but Wooyoung tries his hardest not to stare at them, or at the way his long hair frames his refined, symmetrical face.</p><p>"Like Mingi-ssi said -- " Wooyoung gulps, hoping he doesn't sound like a fool, "plushies aren't allowed here when we're eating. It's disrespectful, and I'm -- I'm sure Mingi-ssi will really appreciate it if you don't have it around during breakfast, San-ssi."</p><p>Choi San's eyes flicker with challenge as he squeezes the plushie. "No."</p><p>Wooyoung extends his hand. He can't believe he's doing this. "Please, give it to me."</p><p>"No, I won't." San's eyes are squinted in annoyance, pouty lips the shade of fading rose petals.</p><p>"Wooyoung, it's okay. Let's just eat," Mingi voices out a few feet away, but Wooyoung crosses his arms, an idea infiltrating his thoughts.</p><p>He observes the food laid before him. "Mingi, what's his least favourite food?"</p><p>San's eyes broaden as Mingi innocently gestures at the side dish of veggies across from the chicken.</p><p>"Thought <em>you</em> wouldn't mind it," Mingi clarifies, shrugging at the pointed glare the CEO shoots him.</p><p>Wooyoung shakes his head. "I don't. But San can have it since he's <em>so eager</em> to have that plushie beside him."</p><p>San's burning stare reverts back to him, and Wooyoung hopes with all his might he doesn't look as he feels -- like a leaf trembling in the wind. He honestly doesn't even know how he's made it this far without embarrassing himself.</p><p>San doesn't relent. At first, that is. He spends half of breakfast chewing on the greens at the pace of a snail, face twisted in one of the most hilarious expressions ever as he struggles to get through the food. But as Wooyoung takes a timid bite out of his third slice of pizza, he feels something grazing his knee.</p><p>It's the round plushie, resting on the seat closest to him.</p><p>He has no idea why he feels as happy as he does right then.</p><p>Mingi leaves right when breakfast is over and after all the plates have been packed, drenching the room in a thick, disconcerting silence.</p><p>San stands up and runs off to the right with his plushie, socked feet thudding against the marble floors. Wooyoung contemplates heading back to his room, but realizes he can't use his phone or the tablet Hongjoong gifted him because he doesn't know the WiFi password.</p><p>When he finally shows up at the sitting room with his phone in hand, he's once again struck by the remarkable size of everything. How does San feel everyday living alone in this gigantic house? It's something he can't fathom.</p><p>San sits cross-legged on the floor across from an electric fireplace, staring at the flat screen TV, but it's obvious he isn't actually <em>watching</em> anything.</p><p>Warm purples and blues from the TV screen spill onto the contours of his face, and reflect off his eyes. Wooyoung shakes his head. <em>Stop fucking staring at him</em>.</p><p>He blinks, and then San's eyes meet his, dark and narrowed.</p><p>"Uh," Wooyoung coughs. "You've uh, you've got a nice TV, sir."</p><p>"Don't call me '<em>sir</em>'," San answers, baffled. "That's weird."</p><p>"You're a CEO," Wooyoung can't help but blurt, and bites his lip as a way to chastise himself. "Sorry."</p><p>San's face falls, looking far more like the man Wooyoung had seen many times on catalogues and those digital billboards. "I know I am, you don't need to remind me."</p><p>"I'm sorry."</p><p>San doesn't answer to that, but points at the phone he's holding. "What's that?"</p><p>Wooyoung hides it a little. "A phone...?"</p><p>"Yeah, I know. But it looks so <em>shabby</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung chews his lip, shoulders hunched in defeat. "Oh."</p><p>San leans back, lips quirked to form his first <em>actual</em> smile at Wooyoung, and it takes the younger by surprise. "I was just teasing you."</p><p>Wooyoung coughs again, before walking around San. He pretends the man isn't staring at him as he settles himself on the floor as well.</p><p>The hard surface is downright <em>cruel</em> to his butt, but he doesn't let it show, not when San's eyes are on his face, studying him.</p><p>"You're Number Three," San states after a second.</p><p>"<em>What</em>?"</p><p>"The third person Hongjoongie's brought over here to <em>babysit </em>me," San says, fingers making quotation marks on 'babysit'. "It's you. And I don't like it, because I'm fine here by myself even if he thinks I'm not."</p><p>Wooyoung looks at the elder, and maybe it's the lighting, but marks line underneath his eyes, nearly putting <em>his</em> eye bags to shame. He doesn't know how he hadn't noticed them earlier during breakfast.</p><p>He picks at a loose thread on his shirt. "Maybe he's just worried."</p><p>"He shouldn't be. I'm fine." San doesn't look <em>that</em> fine, but Wooyoung refrains from commenting on it, because he has a slight hunch it won't be appreciated.</p><p>"I'm Jung Wooyoung," Wooyoung says, though he's sure Choi San already knows his full name. He just wants to steer their conversation elsewhere and not feel as awkward. "...I'm turning twenty two at the end of this month, and...I'm a college student."</p><p>San rakes his fingers down his hair, exposing a smooth forehead and perfectly arched brows. He scoffs, but it's not mean sounding. "Wow, what interesting facts."</p><p>"I know right," Wooyoung answers, tone dry.</p><p>San bites his lip (Wooyoung looks away when he realizes he's staring. <em>Again</em>), his toes wriggling as he pipes up with a wide grin that knocks Wooyoung's breath right out of him.</p><p>"Oh, I have an idea of how we can spend the time! And it's not as <em>boring</em> as yours."</p><p><em>Things like hugging plushies, colouring and watching cartoons are some of what San likes to do when he's in </em><em>little space</em><em>. Entertain him, but do not let it get out of hand</em>. Wooyoung remembers Hongjoong's earlier words, so he isn't surprised when San scrambles towards the black leather sofa large enough to fit up to four people, and returns back with a colouring book and a set of markers.</p><p>But that doesn't mean Wooyoung doesn't understand it. He <em>really</em> doesn't understand it, because like everyone else, things that aren't familiar to him get a little frowned at, a little judged. That's just how he feels, he can't help it. But he doesn't say anything, because that isn't what he's here for.</p><p>He's here to tolerate Choi San and get paid, not to <em>understand</em> him.</p><p>"This one's new. It's got stickers I like," San says as he sits, before opening it up to a certain page. It's half complete, full of a bunch of different foxes.</p><p>Wooyoung watches on like a distant presence as San starts to colour in the rest of the foxes with the markers. He realizes the older man pays a lot of attention to detail, shading in the drawings with utmost care and patience.</p><p>But when San grabs the orange marker and starts to shade a new fox, he accidentally colours outside the lines. San hurls it at the floor with a petulant huff, whimpering like an injured puppy. The marker leaves an ugly smear over the shiny floor.</p><p>"Why did this have to happen? This is why I hate orange!"</p><p>"You shouldn't do that," Wooyoung says, but San's groans easily overpower his low voice. "Pick it up," he says much louder. "It'll dirty the floor."</p><p>"People clean it every evening," San says, flinging yet another marker at the floor. "I don't care."</p><p>"Just because they do doesn't mean you can't pick up after yourself," Wooyoung answers. It's weird how easy it is to talk to San now. Maybe it's because he's currently staring at the floor, his slanted eyes hidden from view. But it's fine, Wooyoung likes it like that.</p><p>"You're not Jung Wooyoung anymore to me. You're officially Mr. Nag Nag. 'Cause that's what you're doing right now: nagging your <em>butt</em> off."</p><p>Wooyoung ignores him and reaches to pick up the markers, but San decides to dump the rest across the floor.</p><p>"Sir -- "</p><p>"Don't <em>call</em> me that, Nag Nag -- "</p><p>"Pick up the markers. Right now."</p><p>San pouts, but the his eyes light up. "Lie on the floor and I'll pick them up."</p><p>"No."</p><p>"You have to do as I say. I'm the <em>boss</em>."</p><p>Choi San technically is, but Wooyoung doesn't want to acknowledge that. "...No," he tries again, his tone bordering on insecure, which the older man picks up on.</p><p>"Lie down," San scoots closer, batting his lashes dramatically. "<em>Pleeease</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung looks away as soon as their gazes meet, but crumples to the floor either way. <em>I hope I don't regret this.</em></p><p>"What is this for?" He asks, shivering a little at the coolness of the marble tiles.</p><p>San doesn't answer him, but he doesn't need to. In a matter of seconds, he's leaning over Wooyoung, long hair flowing down his face and falling easily over his shoulders as if he's in some photoshoot.</p><p>Wooyoung's breath hitches at his proximity, even more so when San <em>smiles</em>, popping open a black marker.</p><p>San's face is mere inches away when he presses the warm pads of his fingers over Wooyoung's forehead, slowly shifting the hair that gets in the way off to the side.</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't know where to look, but he <em>does</em> know he can't look San in the eye -- even if it's tempting. So his eyes dart every possible way, before abruptly landing on the older's nose.</p><p>It's a straight nose, a little thick at the tip, but it's cute. <em>No it isn't what the actual fuck --</em></p><p>Something cold and wet hits Wooyoung's forehead then, and then he realizes that San is scribbling something down on him.</p><p>"Wait, San-ssi -- "</p><p>San scribbles even faster, then sticks something at the end before Wooyoung can even react.</p><p>"What did you write on my forehead?" Wooyoung questions.</p><p>San shrugs, so Wooyoung has to stand up and find his way to the nearest bathroom (which just so happens to be a whole staircase away). When he sees himself, he wants to <em>scream</em>.</p><p><b>L O S E R</b> is scrawled across his forehead in thick, blocky letters, along with a large '🤪' sticker. The emoji sears his skin, <em>taunting</em> him, because he feels like it. He feels like a big fool.</p><p>Wooyoung hears something and then he turns, and there San is by the doorway, grinning at him like a sly cat. "<em>You</em>!"</p><p>"Revenge for making me eat veggies!" San yells and speeds off, cackling at the top of his lungs.</p><p>Wooyoung wants to do the logical thing here, which is to calmly inhale deep breaths and try not to explode at what Choi San, a fricking <em>CEO</em> for Christ's sake, has done to him. It may be hard, but he has to. He has to be the bigger person and --</p><p>Wooyoung rips off the sticker and chases after San.</p><p>The older man is light on his feet -- and fast too -- blowing Wooyoung a raspberry as soon as he sees him, before descending the spiralling staircase into the sitting room.</p><p>Wooyoung follows after him, having to hold on to the rails so he doesn't trip and rip his skull open, but then he gets distracted by the thought of his blood getting all over the polished stairs, and slips just as he reaches the ground floor.</p><p>He doesn't fall, but San sees everything, and <em>fuck</em>, it's embarrassing when San laughs <em>harder</em> than before.</p><p>"<em>Lo. </em><em>Ser</em><em>. Nag. Nag</em>!" San chants like he's at a football game, narrowly missing Wooyoung's hands when they reach to grab him.</p><p>Wooyoung <em>hates</em> this. He hates this <em>so much</em>, doesn't know why he's even bothering with this rich snob of a boss when he can just let it go and fucking ignore him for the rest of the day as planned, but something in him prevents him for listening. He wants to catch Choi San and make him <em>pay</em> for what he's done.</p><p>San arrives at the hall when Wooyoung snatches him and flips him against the wall a little harsher than he'd intended. San doesn't wince though, only stares right into his eyes.</p><p>"What are you doing? Are you a fucking <em>child</em>? What is <em>wrong</em> with you?!" Wooyoung spits before he can stop himself, his earlier frustration getting to him.</p><p>He regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth, of course, but the deed is already done. That's the thing with words; once they're spoken, you can't take them back no matter how hard you try.</p><p>Something <em>breaks</em> in San's eyes but then he blinks and it's gone. He leans in and ruffles Wooyoung's hair. "You look cute."</p><p>Wooyoung flinches at his touch and grabs his wrist, but lets go as soon as he does. He steps away, keeping his gaze locked on the ground. "I'm sorry."</p><p>"No, you're not," San replies, voice lowered, <em>huskier</em>, not at all like the bubbly man Wooyoung had witnessed earlier. He moves in until he's all up in Wooyoung's space, and Wooyoung makes the mistake of looking at him.</p><p>"You're only in it for the money, just like the others..." San's eyes are intense, intimidating. He taps Wooyoung's forehead, softly at first, before roughly pushing it away. "But I'll make you leave. I'll make you <em>give up,</em> just like the loser you truly are."</p><p>Then, San walks off, leaving Wooyoung reeling with surprise, guilt, and even more shockingly, <em>hurt</em>.</p><p>It hurts, not because of the way San said it (not really), but because it's the truth. He <em>is</em> a loser.</p><p>To make things worse, Wooyoung realizes right then and there he hasn't even gotten the WiFi password yet.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. jung wooyoung is a liar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p></p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <b>
      <em>« i'm always a little false</em>
    </b>
    <br/>
    <b>
      <em>always a little fake</em>
    </b>
    <br/>
    <b>
      <em>feelings are at stake »</em>
    </b>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>Wooyoung spends over twenty minutes scrubbing off the words on his forehead. By the time he's done, his skin is red and raw, black frothy bubbles staining the once spotless bathroom sink. He sighs.</p><p>He can't stop thinking about San's words, though it doesn't stop him from <em>trying</em> to. He sees his reflection in the mirror and feels like an imposter, stuck trying to navigate a body as fake as the coloured contact covering his left eye and as shallow as the smiles he gives everyone.</p><p>His eyes glare at him through the mirror, those stupid bags under them making him look like a raccoon that did too much weed. But unlike him, raccoons aren't losers.</p><p><em>Stop thinking about it</em>, a voice in Wooyoung's head yells at him, but it's hard.</p><p>He flips open the faucet and watches as the water washes the dirty soap away, wishing he was that soap.</p><p>Like San said earlier, a couple cleaners skitter into the mansion as the sun begins to set, out of sight and out of mind until they disappear off again.</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't see Choi San either, but it isn't like he wants to. Fortunately, Hongjoong relays him the WiFi passcode, and as soon as he does Hongjoong video calls him on the tablet through Skype.</p><p>"<em>Hey, Wooyoung</em>!" Hongjoong greets through the screen, grinning broadly. It's relatively dark wherever he is, golden yellow lights fanning half his face.</p><p>Wooyoung's lips stretch into a smile that looks far less enthusiastic. "Hey, Hongjoong-ssi."</p><p>"<em>Hey, none of that</em>." Hongjoong nods at something ahead of him, eyes flickering over to Wooyoung again. They sparkle, even under his glasses. "<em>Just 'Hongjoong' is fine. Or 'hyung'. Anyway, I'm being driven to the airport right now, but I wanted to check how everything's going with San. Good, I hope?</em>"</p><p>Wooyoung nods tersely. "Yeah. Yeah, everything's good. I also met Mingi-ssi. He's very nice."</p><p>He's not sure Hongjoong believes him, but the blue haired man looks distracted enough to not notice a thing.</p><p>"<em>That's good. Listen, I</em><em> tried to call San a few minutes ago, but he wasn't picking up</em>," Hongjoong explains, flipping open a page of a...book, maybe. "<em>I guess he must still be in one of his moods. Don't worry, he'll get better</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung nods again. '<em>Loser</em>' echoes in his head, and he slightly winces. "Okay."</p><p>"<em>Are you alright</em>?"</p><p>The question catches Wooyoung off-guard, as he hadn't expected anything of the sort. He remembers the times he used to get that question from others, a majority of them from strangers he couldn't care less about. It didn't take him long to realize it's more so out of cordiality than anything else, because no one actually wants to know <em>how</em> you're doing; they just do it to seem like the good guy.</p><p>But, when Hongjoong asks it, he sounds concerned. <em>Sincere</em>. He's a man he met just yesterday that's looking now at him through a screen, but it's more genuine than any of the frivolous ones he'd gotten over the years.</p><p>Wooyoung isn't as sincere, however. He lies. "I'm alright."</p><p>"<em>You sure?</em>"</p><p>"Yeah." Wooyoung runs his tongue over his teeth. "Take care, hyung. Have a safe flight."</p><p>Hongjoong grins warmly, undoubtedly pleased. "<em>Thank you</em>."</p><p>Then, the call ends, and Wooyoung is now by himself. The silence inside his spacious room grows more recognizable, until he can't ignore it any longer. It's easy to pretend he isn't alone when it'd just been him in the cramped space that was his old bedroom, counting down the days until he could save enough money to leave his apartment, instead of counting stars like what other people did.</p><p>Now, that isn't the case anymore. Not when every move he makes in this room resounds heavily through the walls, not when he's on a bed big enough for two, especially not when he looks through the tall sliding windows and sees trees instead of impatient neighbours waltzing down busy streets.</p><p>This is all so <em>new</em>, but this is the new he has to get used to. For now.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"So... Sannie is kind of a handful, right?" Mingi teases as he expertly chops the vegetables while Wooyoung stands beside him, his cooking skills inadequate in comparison. '<em>They're for you and </em><em>I</em>' was what Mingi said once he started, because they both knew Choi San despises them. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung shrugs at his question, his go-to response when he's at a loss of words. It's weird though, because his mind never sleeps, always buzzing with a myriad of thoughts (most of them negative), and sometimes they even cost him sleep at night. But when it comes to speaking his thoughts and feelings <em>out loud</em>, nothing wants to leave. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Don't let it discourage you, though," Mingi continues, casting the younger man a glance as he slices an onion perfectly in half. <em>Frightening</em>. "San's usually like that with people he doesn't know too well."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"He said I'm his Number Three."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>And <em>sometimes</em>, Wooyoung speaks his mind when he least wants to.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Mingi chuckles, but it lacks any emotion. "Yeah. Does it bother you?"</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"...No."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Mingi stares at Wooyoung, but Wooyoung looks away once their eyes lock. "You want to ask me something. Go on, I'm not stopping you."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung fiddles with his gloved fingers, wriggles them. "You showed up this morning and now, but not in the afternoon."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Yes. Busy with chef things," Mingi jokes, to which Wooyoung smiles at. "Also Sannie usually just orders out during the afternoons since I'm not around then."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"So, he doesn't have anyone else to cook for him?" Wooyoung hopes he doesn't sound judgemental or anything. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Luckily, Mingi doesn't appear offended when he answers, "No one else cooks for him except for me, and when I do I always eat with him. He doesn't allow anyone else."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Why?" Wooyoung scoots away a little at the smell of the onions. He's not particularly in the mood to cry tonight, thank you very much.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"It's kinda complicated," Mingi smoothly answers, as if he's responded to this exact question before. "What? Are you thinking of cooking for him?"</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung's mouth parts, then smacks shut like a blubbering fish. He flushes hotly at the sound of Mingi's laughter. "N-No, I -- "</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"I'm just kidding." Though the taller male doesn't look quite convinced. He stares at Wooyoung's face with an observant glint in his eyes.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Contacts."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"What?"</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"You have them on. At least -- " Mingi gestures at his own left eye, "one right there. I just noticed because of the lights."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Uh." Wooyoung chews his bottom lip, chest excruciatingly tight. He inhales a deep breath. "Yeah, I do."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Eye things?"</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung smiles and nods. "Eye things."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung soon discovers Mingi always has a set 'theme' whenever he prepares anything. This morning was 'American'. Now, it's 'pasta'.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>As Wooyoung sets the plates, noting the changed tablecloth, San strolls into the dining hall with a frog plushie in his arms this time, dressed in velvety lilac pjs that forms a noticeable contrast against his pale skin. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung doesn't know he's staring too much until Mingi intentionally takes away the empty plate in his hands, snapping him back to reality. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>'<em>What</em><em> are you doing?'</em> Mingi mouths once San is out of earshot. Half of him is amused, while the other half is... something else Wooyoung can't decipher. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>'<em>Nothing</em>,' Wooyoung mouths back with a shrug that's too forceful to be normal. He doesn't even know what he's doing either.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>No one says anything when San hugs his plushie as he eats, and dinner is silent. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung digs into his lasagna, making himself as small as he possibly can. It's so quiet you can hear a pin drop, but he seems like the only one who notices, or even cares.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He sneaks a discreet glance at Mingi. The guy is unbothered as he gradually finishes up his meal, not appearing at all awkward or out of place. <em>He's used to this</em>.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung suddenly feels eyes on him, and when he turns he directly meets Choi San's gaze. <em>Holy</em> --</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The fork in his hand clanks against the floor, slicing the silence in half. Wooyoung watches with stunned eyes as the mess it makes, but that's before all the embarrassment crashes down on him like a tidal wave.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He pushes back his chair, but that just makes <em>more</em> noise. "I --" <em>fuck</em>, "I'll clean up -- "</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"No, let me do it." Mingi is quick on his feet, already beside Wooyoung before the shorter knows it. His face burns when Mingi swiftly gets rid of the mess, shame swirling his gut because he just <em>stands</em> there, too preoccupied with his dumbass self to be of any use. He's an <em>idiot</em>.</p>
</div><p><br/>He hears laughter.</p><p>Looking up, Wooyoung sees the bright smile on San's face. He doesn't even bother hiding it, and Wooyoung catches sight of deep dimples before Mingi starts reprimanding him.</p><p>"Stop laughing," Mingi's telling Choi San, but Wooyoung doesn't hear the rest because San decides to march off like an upset toddler right then, leaving them in a tense silence.</p><p>"...Shit," Mingi whispers. He sounds tired. "Sorry you had to witness that."</p><p>"It's okay," Wooyoung clears his throat. It's unnecessarily dry. "It's my fault anyway."</p><p>"No, no. You just made a mistake, but San," Mingi pulls off his glasses, rubs his forehead. "He's just..."</p><p>He trails off, as if he expects Wooyoung to just <em>get it</em>. But Wooyoung <em>can't</em> ever get it, because he's just a stranger to Choi San, and that's all he most likely ever will be.</p><p>But even with this, he plasters on a forced smile, and he lies again. "No. It's okay. I get it."</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The first thing Wooyoung does when he wakes up the next morning is <em>panic</em>, heartbeat rattling loudly beneath his ribs with every hasty inhale he takes. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He calms down when he realizes where he is, but his heart rate picks up once he reads the time on the digital clock displayed on top his bedside table. 8:17 AM.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p><em>Shit</em>. He flips off the thick white duvet off his body, but freezes when he notices the midnight blue initials glowing below the time. <em>SUN</em>. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It's Sunday. Wooyoung stays in that position for some time, contemplating if he should say '<em>fuck</em> <em>it</em>' and go back to sleep, but with the way his heart's beating and his rapid thoughts, he figures dozing off would be practically impossible to do now. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>And it's infuriating. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung shuffles off the bed, still not used to how cozy it is, and mindlessly rubs his hands over his messy black hair to try and fix the bird's nest it most likely looks like. Stifling a yawn, he then twists down the door handle, planning to find the nearest bathroom and look at least half presentable for the day ahead.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He nearly walks right into the figure standing in front of his room, and <em>shouts</em>.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"<em>Oh my god</em>." Wooyoung takes a clumsy step back, seeing a purple pyjama set that looks familiar. It takes him a hot minute to find out who the person is.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p><em>San</em> stays there in the middle of the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. "Good morning."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung blinks, stares at him again. The older's eyes are like steel, jaws clenched and lips pursed. They're still pink, even with how early it is. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung gulps. "Hey. Good morning." </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Something shifts in San's expression, the harshness in his dark brown eyes loosening. He looks at Wooyoung like he's seeing him for the first time.</p>
</div><p><br/>Wooyoung winces, shock grappling his senses. <em>His eye</em>.</p><p>He immediately swerves around, hiding the left side of his face from view. "<em>Fuck</em>," he mutters.</p><p>"Wooyoung -- " San says his name instead of that stupid 'Mr Nag Nag' or whatever other nickname he has for him, but Wooyoung's too alarmed to notice or care.</p><p>"Go away," Wooyoung commands, shoving his hand out when he sees how close San has gotten.</p><p>"What -- your eye -- " San, for the first time ever, is fumbling for words to say, and it just heightens Wooyoung's panic.</p><p>Wooyoung pushes him before he can stop himself. "I said <em>g</em><em>o away</em>! Get out!"</p><p>San stubbornly stands still, but the softness his eyes previously held have completely dissolved. His deathly cold stare makes Wooyoung shudder. "I admit, I treated you badly yesterday. So I decided to come over to greet you, maybe try and fix things. But I now know I shouldn't have even bothered. You're a <em>fucking</em> jerk."</p><p>San strides out of Wooyoung's room right then -- no, not <em>his</em> room, because he's just a stranger and all this will <em>never</em> belong to him -- and Wooyoung internally <em>crumbles</em>, like he's made of paper. And maybe he is, because he doesn't feel real. <em>None</em> of this does.</p><p>He's managed to fuck things up -- <em>again</em>, and now he's sure he's gonna get fired, on his second day on the job, no less. A new record.</p><p>He tells himself he'll be fine with it if it happens.</p><p><em>Liar</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. jung wooyoung comforts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <b>
      <em>« parents are the greatest liars</em>
    </b>
    <br/>
    <b>
      <em>they make </em>
    </b>
    <b>
      <em>you</em>
    </b>
    <b>
      <em> believe in love </em>
    </b>
    <br/>
    <b>
      <em>until </em>
    </b>
    <b>
      <em>they</em>
    </b>
    <b>
      <em> don't »</em>
    </b>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>Wooyoung likes the sea. Always has, ever since was a kid and first discovered what it was during one of his science classes. The topic was about nature, and although Wooyoung can't remember much about a lesson that happened over ten years ago, he can still vividly recollect the way he felt seeing surfers glide across the vast body of water on the projected screen with their surfboards. He can still remember how endless and <em>infinite</em> the sea was, stretching out into the distant horizon.</p><p>And it's quite ironic, really, because Wooyoung doesn't like the sight of his left eye when it's the same colour.</p><p>Though Wooyoung adores the sea itself, he despises beaches. He used to love it however -- like most things in his life before he <em>grew up</em> -- used to admire the way his little feet would sink into the grainy, comfy sand. He used to like the rich smell of salt in the air, of birds cackling over the cloudless blue skies. Made him feel free -- <em>infinite</em> -- just like the sea he loved so much.</p><p>The beach used to store his most prized memories until his eleventh birthday.</p><p>His parents brought him to the local beach, just like they did every other year because they didn't have to spend much, and it wasn't like Wooyoung minded since he liked the outdoors and anywhere that allowed him to be free.</p><p>Wooyoung didn't talk to any of the other kids there either, especially after he started to realize dealing with people who obviously wanted nothing to do with him drained his energy to bits, deciding to spend almost all his time there building sandcastles and watching the sun descend down the sapphire blue sky.</p><p>"Call your father. I want you to take a picture of him and I together by the sunset," Wooyoung's mother told him from where she sat on her lounge chair. It was always '<em>him</em><em> and </em><em>I</em>' and never '<em>us</em> <em>three</em>', but Wooyoung never commented on it, obeying her instantly.</p><p>He began to hate the beach when he spotted his father by his car -- <em>their</em> car -- with another woman with longer hair than his mother and a face full of makeup. They kissed, his father grinning at her in a way he'd never done with his own wife or son.</p><p>Wooyoung never said a thing about it, and sometimes he lies awake at night, wondering if things would've turned out differently if he had. <em>It's not my fault</em>, he'd try to convince himself, but it's been years and he still blames himself for the downfall of his parents' marriage, even when he knows his father is a shit human who cheats and his mother cares about no one but herself.</p><p>After that moment, beaches weren't temporary paradises filled with astronomical skies and dazzling seas anymore. They represented lairs of deceit and parents who should've never met in the first place.</p><p>Wooyoung blinks, and then he lands himself in the present. Faint chatter surrounds his ears, and his right hand is cold. Damp.</p><p>"Are you gonna take anything or what?" It's a man, probably in his late forties with a bushy mustache and beady eyes. Which are currently judging Wooyoung.</p><p>"Oh. Uh, sorry." Wooyoung steps away, and the freezer snaps shut. Frozen bags of fish stare at him through the transparent case. He can't believe he'd just zoned out on fish.  </p><p>Wooyoung walks off into another aisle of the supermarket, keeping his eyes lowered in case he accidentally exchanges awkward eye contact with anyone else.</p><p>Some cash got transferred into his account this morning courtesy of Hongjoong, and as a result Wooyoung skipped out on letting one of San's hired chauffeurs drive him (even if it was in the agreement) and hiked a ride on the public bus instead that afternoon, which is why he's here right now.</p><p>It isn't a planned outing, not even close. He only left the house because staying there only reminded him of how much he fucked up and how much San probably hates him now.</p><p>"<em>You're a fucking jerk</em>," echoes in Wooyoung's brain as he heads down the aisle full of sweets. His ears flush at the insult, as if everyone in this entire freaking store can hear what San called him and are now pointing and laughing and saying that '<em>yes, he really is a fucking jerk, ha ha ha'</em>.</p><p><em>Don't think about him</em>, Wooyoung tells himself. <em>Don't think about San even if that's your job and you should be in the house right now, babysitting him because that's the only reason you're here, using money you did nothing to earn</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung really fucking hates the voices in his mind sometimes.</p><p>He takes the first bag of sweets that catches his eye and dumps it inside his basket. Avoiding everyone's stares, he quickly grabs some snacks and some strawberry and banana milk as well. He doesn't know why his chooses these particular items to buy, especially because he isn't that big a fan of sweet things, but when he starts to think of Choi San again he finds himself grabbing <em>another</em> bottle of strawberry milk.</p><p>Wooyoung exhales a sigh of relief when he makes it to the checkout counter mentally unscathed and without making a huge fool out of himself.</p><p>"...Wooyoung?"</p><p>Wooyoung's head snaps up, and there, right in front of him in a red and grey uniform with the supermarket's logo on it, is Kang Yeosang. Wooyoung feels himself gulp.</p><p>"Uh, hey." Wooyoung puts his things on the counter, stares behind him. There's no one else there, and somehow he wishes he'd chosen a more popular store than this place.</p><p>"How are you?" Yeosang attempts small talk, a friendly smile on his delicate face. He's just so effortlessly <em>stunning</em>, and it makes Wooyoung feel painfully inferior in comparison. "I mean, I haven't seen you in a while. Well, in two days, but," he laughs, full and rich, "how's your new home?"</p><p>For some reason, his words make Wooyoung ashamed, because he actually doesn't <em>have</em> a new home. He's just a glorified guest at a mansion whose owner wouldn't hesitate to dispose of whenever he saw fit. But Yeosang doesn't need to know that, now does he?</p><p>"It's good. Has a nice view, yeah," Wooyoung replies with an awkward clear of his throat.</p><p>"That's good."</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"You have classes tomorrow, right? I mean, you probably have since it's Monday," Yeosang continues despite Wooyoung's obvious lack of interest. Another customer strolls behind Wooyoung, but that doesn't discourage him. "When are you free? We can like, go grab lunch together or something."</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't want to. Not because he dislikes Yeosang, but because he genuinely doesn't know how to react in situations like this. When last did he go out to eat with someone? He truly can't remember.</p><p>He feels the impatient stare of the lady behind him and quickly shoves his stuff inside a bag after paying for them. "I don't -- maybe next time."</p><p>"Next time it is, then."</p><p>Wooyoung has no idea what kind of expression Yeosang now has on his face (because he seriously has a problem with looking people in the eye), but nods nonetheless. "Yeah. Next time."</p><p>Wooyoung leaves the supermarket right then, the wind in his hair and nervous butterflies in his stomach. He looks at the store to see Yeosang grinning brightly at a customer, probably wishing them a good day or something. He walks off before the other male can feel his creepy stares and wonders why he'd sort of thought Yeosang would've kept looking at him even as he stepped out.</p><p><em>You're not that important</em>, a voice in Wooyoung's mind whispers just as he crosses the road.</p><p><em>Gee, thanks</em>.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung doesn't know what to expect when he returns back to Choi San's home, but he certainly doesn't anticipate seeing the man himself perched on the leather couch, a leg crossed over the other as he looks through the photo-book in his hand.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He isn't wearing pjs anymore, but instead slacks and a white shirt with the top buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms and...<em>veins</em>.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Welcome back," San says without looking at Wooyoung, and the younger swallows, staring elsewhere. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Uh, hi."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"You left without telling me, and you didn't let any of my men drive you," San continues, tone ultra serious. Wooyoung would've chuckled a bit at his professionalism under different circumstances, and if he and San were actually <em>friends</em>, which they aren't. </p>
</div><p><br/>"I uh, I didn't need to. Hongjoong hyung," Wooyoung pauses, trying to reword his sentence. "I didn't need the help because hyung -- "</p><p>"So now you call Hongjoong '<em>hyung</em>'," San cuts in, flipping over a new page. If Wooyoung didn't know better he'd have assumed he sounded a little... <em>jealous</em>.</p><p>San <em>still</em> doesn't spare Wooyoung a glance, and Wooyoung doesn't know if that makes him more relieved or not.</p><p>"Well, yes. He told me that I can, um, call him that." Wooyoung licks his lips, but <em>of course</em> that's when Choi San decides to look up, causing him to nearly choke on his spit.</p><p>The upper half of San's hair is pulled into a ponytail, a few strands falling over his eyes, which are currently surveying Wooyoung from top to bottom. They linger on his face, and it makes Wooyoung writhe uncomfortably.</p><p>"You dress like a lumberjack," San suddenly comments.</p><p>Wooyoung stares at his plaid shirt and dark jeans, and shrugs because he genuinely doesn't know how else to answer. "Thanks?"</p><p>"It's not a compliment." But San's lips are quirked, like he's trying to bite back a smile.</p><p>Wooyoung's eyes fall on the book he's holding. He sees something that faintly resembles dresses and skirts.</p><p>San slaps the book shut, startling him a little. The CEO points at the bag he's clutching, foxy eyes dark with curiosity. "What's in there?"</p><p>"Uh...food," Wooyoung states the obvious, and he wants to smack himself.</p><p>Choi San stares at his face again, slowly, <em>intensely</em>, like he's trying to read his soul. Wooyoung quickly realizes he's watching his <em>eyes</em>.</p><p>"I think I should go," he tries to excuse himself, but San beats him to it, patting the space beside him on the sofa.</p><p>"Come here."</p><p>Wooyoung stands there like he's frozen, unable to believe San just invited him to sit next to him when just hours earlier he looked like he was <em>seconds away</em> from firing his ass.</p><p>San must've noticed, because he just grumbles, uncrossing his legs. "<em>Come</em>, Wooyoung. I'm not gonna jump you. I'm not some secret mafia boss like in those fan-fictions written about me."</p><p>Wooyoung blinks, flabbergasted. "<em>Excuse me</em>?"</p><p>"Don't lie to me," San begins, sifting a curled lock of hair behind his ear <em>and</em> <em>good god why is Wooyoung looking at that</em>? "I'm sure you've read some of them. They were like, all over the internet at one point. Like, '<em>Living With My Hot, Sexy and Mysterious CEO Choi </em><em>San'</em>? Yeah, I think that was the title of one of them. It was good though, despite it's ludicrous name."</p><p>"Uh..." Wooyoung is completely, and utterly, <em>lost</em>. "I don't... I'm sorry but I have no idea what you're talking about, sir."</p><p>He winces at his slip up, especially when San narrows his eyes at him.</p><p>"Don't call me sir."</p><p>"Then what do you want me to call you?"</p><p>San chews his lip, which juts into a pout. <em>Cute</em>.</p><p><em>Wait -- not cute</em> --</p><p>"Daddy."</p><p>Wooyoung drops his bag, then swears loudly like a goddamn sailor. If that isn't embarrassing enough, his knees audibly form that <em>crack</em> sound when he bends to pick his things up.</p><p>San laughs like a madman, clapping his hands as if he's just made the funniest joke ever. "Oh my god. I got you <em>good</em>."</p><p><em>Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale</em>. Wooyoung grabs the bag, turning on his heel to leave.</p><p>"Where do you think you're going?" San asks. It's like a switch has been flipped, and his voice no longer annoys Wooyoung but <em>daunts</em> him. "I never told you to leave."</p><p>As soon as Wooyoung looks back, he continues. "And plus, aren't you my babysitter? You're supposed to be babysitting me."</p><p>"I..." Wooyoung stops, San's icy gaze caging him from inside out, and then he <em>shatters</em>. "I'm sorry. So, so sorry for the way I treated you this morning. And yesterday too. I never meant to shout on you and hurt your feelings and it was really mean of me and I sincerely apologize for any hurt I may have caused because I truly never meant a word I was just angry at myself and everything and -- "</p><p>"Sit your ass down."</p><p>Wooyoung's knees buckle and then he finds himself on the cool floor. He doesn't know what's happening to him anymore.</p><p>"On the <em>couch</em>, oh my god," San clarifies with the widest smile Wooyoung has ever seen on him. Something unfamiliar twists in his chest at the sight, and he feels sick.</p><p>San pats the space next to him for good measure, his dimpled smile still on display. "<em>That's</em> what I meant."</p><p>Wooyoung's nerves eat him alive as he scurries over to where Choi San wants, not knowing how to act with the older man so <em>close</em> to him now.</p><p>San shifts to face him squarely, all amused smiles, sculpted cheekbones and potent eyes, and Wooyoung has no idea where to look that won't make him out to be some sort of freak.</p><p><em>Stop being so stiff. It's just San, it's just San, it's just San</em> --</p><p>Wooyoung's heart leaps to his throat when he feels San's hands on his shirt. Immediately he looks down, inhaling fragrant rosemary and getting an eyeful of nimble, <em>soft</em> looking fingers tugging at the buttons, and then coolness slithers in, enveloping his scorching skin.</p><p>"Uhm," Wooyoung gulps, making eye contact with San, which causes his heart to palpitate erratically. "What are you doing?"</p><p>"You buttoned your shirt all the way to the top," San lets go, tongue poking out of his lips as he admires his handiwork. "It was not cool. But now, <em>now</em> you look <em>suave</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung looks down, cheeks aflame when he sees the amount of buttons now loose. Instinctively, his fingers cover his exposed chest from view, while San guffaws and looks through the shopping bag in front of him.</p><p>"I forgive you," San states, and even when he isn't watching Wooyoung, it makes his cheeks hotter. The man then pulls out a bag of chips and drops it just as he does. "I don't like chips."</p><p>Wooyoung's eyes widen. "I -- they aren't for you -- "</p><p>But San takes out the next item, which is a pack of sweets, and dumps it on the couch, brows knitted. "Sweets aren't my thing."</p><p>"I didn't -- "</p><p>"I hate banana milk and strawberry milk is <em>gross</em>," San adds with a long sigh. "Why'd you buy them if I don't like them?"</p><p>"They...they're not for you," Wooyoung finally manages to get out, pride a bit bruised. He doesn't know why though, because according to him he bought those things for <em>himself</em>, not anyone else.</p><p>"Then who were they for? You?" One of San's dark eyebrows raise. "You don't look like the type to favour sweet things."</p><p>Wooyoung bites his lip, at a loss for words. And he hates it. San just makes it worse with the way he keeps watching him, arms crossed like some imposing instructor.</p><p>"...I don't like sweet things that much," Wooyoung then admits, cracking under the pressure.</p><p>"So you bought all these things for me."</p><p>Wooyoung nods, feeling unexplainably shy. "...Yeah..."</p><p>"Sweet!" San abruptly perks up, and then he's ripping the pack of sweets open and snatching a blueberry flavoured lollipop. "This brand isn't what I'm used to, but I'll make do with it since you bought them for me."</p><p>"Uh, what?" Wooyoung's insides well up in confusion as San shoves the lollipop into his mouth. "What do you mean?"</p><p>"I was just kidding. I mean, about the banana milk and sweets. I actually like them."</p><p><em>You have got to be kidding me</em>.</p><p>"I like them a <em>lot</em>," San continues, and then he's painstakingly licking the lollipop, tongue swirling around the navy blue tip. It stains his lips when he pulls it out with a resounding <em>pop</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung stares on, wide-eyed and absolutely baffled at whatever the hell the older is doing. He only gains the strength to look away when San's eyes flicker over to his.</p><p>"What?" San questions. He's licking the lollipop <em>again</em>. But that isn't supposed to be weird, now is it? <em>Everyone</em> licks sweets no matter how strange it may sound, but the way he's doing it is...</p><p>"Wooyoung?"</p><p>Wooyoung jumps, eyes blinking repeatedly. "Hm?"</p><p>"Wanna play with me?"</p><p>"Huh?"</p><p>San slides out of the couch, his fingers in his hair. He tugs out the band holding it together, and then it's cascading down his face, highlighting the fairness of his skin and covering the minimal freckles on his neck. San blows a tuft of it off his forehead, then stares right at Wooyoung.</p><p>"Let's play video games, Wooyoung." He looks soft, <em>angelic</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung pushes the thought to the furthest corner of his mind, never to see the light of day again. "Uh, sure. What game is it?"</p><p>"<em>Farmer's Universe</em>. The name sounds lame but it's actually pretty good. I always try to play with Mingi whenever I can, but lately he's busy 'cause there's a huge wedding coming up on his schedule. He doesn't like video games that much either."</p><p>"Oh. Cool." Wooyoung stands as well, before joining San where he sits by what looks suspiciously like a Xbox One X. He isn't even surprised.</p><p>"What's cool?" San asks, switching on the large TV and passing Wooyoung one of the controllers.</p><p>"Weddings. I like seeing them, like seeing people get married." And Wooyoung means it. Despite what happened to his parents, he still thinks <em>real</em> love exists somewhere out there for the lucky few. He feels San's eyes on him, and he shrugs. "It's sappy, I know."</p><p>"I'm just... <em>kinda</em> shocked," San says. He chuckles, nose scrunched a little. <em>Delicate</em>. He looks delicate. "I mean, I never pegged you for the type."</p><p>Wooyoung stares at his lap, palms clammy. He's nervous, and he has no idea why. "Really?"</p><p>"You look like a bad boy," San says. He cackles at the younger's expression, rushes to explain himself. "Like, ya know, the type to frown at all public displays of affection and turn up your nose at happiness because it '<em>makes</em><em> you </em><em>barf'</em>. And you break people's hearts."</p><p>"<em>Hey</em>," Wooyoung raises a hand in defense. His chest feels light at the sound of San's chirpy laughter. "I'm offended you think that way."</p><p>"I mean, can you blame me?"</p><p>Wooyoung shakes his head, the sunny feeling vanishing into dust. "No. Sorry."</p><p>San smiles. "It's okay. Everything'll be fine once I'll get to <em>ruin</em> you with my <em>awesome gaming skills</em>!"</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p><br/>San <em>sucks</em> at video games, or maybe he's just pretending to be, because no one can be <em>that</em> bad without at least faking some of it.</p><p>"<em>Argh</em>!" He groans like a wounded pirate when the shark mafia boss stabs him with its radioactive fins during their third underwater secret mission.</p><p>It sounds really bizarre, but that's the whole premise of Farmer's Universe. The main characters are a man and his wife, and they're, well, farmers by day and crime fighters by night.</p><p>"I almost had him!" San yells, kicking at nothing just as Wooyoung swerves in right on time and helps them clear the level, just like he's done for practically... <em>all</em> of their missions.</p><p>"That's what you said when you almost got killed by those child-eating aliens," Wooyoung states. He chuckles when San shoots him a glare. "What? I'm only telling the truth."</p><p>"<em>Ughhh</em>," San groans once more. He sprawls himself over the floor like a starfish, his shirt riding up to show the smooth, toned planes of his stomach. Wooyoung avoids staring at it.</p><p>"Want to play another round?"</p><p>"<em>Hell no</em>."</p><p>But San soon does anyway, and that afternoon, Wooyoung laughs a lot more than he has in a while.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung can't sleep, numerous thoughts storming his mind and heart heavy with how uncertain and <em>bleak</em> the future feels.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He sits up, and feels more insignificant when he's once again struck by the sheer size of his new bedroom. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Swallowing down the stubborn lump in his throat, Wooyoung pushes his way out of the room, wanting to just <em>get out</em> for a bit.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He doesn't know where he plans on going -- doesn't know <em>where</em> he's heading either -- allowing his feet to guide him instead of his messy, cluttered brain. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He keeps walking, numb and empty, until he hears <em>something</em> that stops him in his tracks. It's coming from a door he's never seen before, the colour a dark oakwood with a silver door handle designed in a way he isn't familiar with in the slightest.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung strolls closer, presses his ear against the firm door. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p><em>Crying</em>. Someone's crying in there.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Heart pounding severely against his chest, Wooyoung opens the door as gently as he can. The cries get louder, no longer muffled by the barrier the door formed.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The bedroom is so spacious it's terrifying, with large blinds at the center spilling thick moonlight into the area. The interior is gothic, almost, reminding Wooyoung of a haunted castle.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>His eyes are soon drawn to the lone figure bent on the pale, luminous bed, a duvet covering their shaking, shivering body. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"<em>No -- p-please, no</em>..." Their voice is a broken whimper, and it's utterly painful to hear. "<em>No. No! Please, please don't leave -- don't l-leave me. You can't...please...</em>"</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung starts to move, and when his brain finally processes what's happening, he has San in his arms, hugging him tightly. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>San's tears stain his shirt as he continues to sob, fists clenching the fabric like he isn't ever planning on letting go.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"D-Don't leave me. P-Please, I can't -- I can't <em>lose you</em>. Please! Please..."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"I won't leave," Wooyoung assures. He isn't even sure if San is fully aware of what's happening, but that doesn't stop him from trying to comfort the older man. He realizes right there and then that seeing him cry is something he never wants to see again. "I won't. It's okay, it's alright. I'm here, hm?"</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung reaches out to touch his face, to wipe off his tears, but drops his hand at the last second.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It's not his place. Already seeing him in this vulnerable state (that the man most likely never wanted) is more than enough, he can't overstep his boundaries. He can't...</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>San leans into him, his tears subsiding. His long lashes linger on his shimmering cheeks, lower lip jutted out into that oh-so-familiar pout. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung's heart ever so slightly skips.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Sleep tight. I'm so sorry." Wooyoung's voice is hushed, resting San against his pillows. The man may be older than him, but right now he looks so frail, so <em>defenceless</em>. It hurts Wooyoung, as it reminds him of... himself.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Good night, S...Sannie," Wooyoung stammers the last word, but luckily, silence is the only thing that answers him. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He leaves the bedroom a thousand times more downhearted than before.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. choi san is impulsive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>
      <em>« water </em>
    </b>
    <b>
      <em>o</em>
    </b>
    <b>
      <em>n my face</em>
    </b>
    <br/>
    <b>
      <em>poison in your veins</em>
    </b>
    <br/>
    <b>
      <em>we drown until </em>
    </b>
    <br/>
    <b>
      <em>no</em>
    </b>
    <b>
      <em> one else remains »</em>
    </b>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>There are a few things, Wooyoung believes, that come naturally to some people. Things like wealth, beauty, and luck.</p><p>Things like <em>friendship</em>.</p><p>It's something Wooyoung noticed ever since he'd discovered humans tended to favour certain people over others, maybe because they had similar interests or likes, or maybe because they just <em>clicked</em>. He saw it everywhere -- from the kids in his school who huddled up in the bus to share earphones, to his parents who preferred to spend time with their work colleagues instead of attempting to pick up the pieces left of their marriage -- and he'd assumed, like everyone else, that he too would soon know what it felt like to have a friend.</p><p>Only...he didn't. Not really.</p><p>By the time Wooyoung could walk and speak, he was already out and about, trying to mingle with the other kids because <em>everyone</em> liked making new friends, right? That's why people went out with each other, desperately wanting to fit in and not stand out, because that's what humans did. They needed constant attention and love, <em>validation</em>.</p><p>And Wooyoung wanted that too. <em>All</em> of it. He wanted to have a million friends, and go to a million parties. He wanted to be popular, loved, and <em>cared for</em>. But he soon realized that something went wrong somewhere, and the problem had to be him because he just succeeded in <em>pushing</em> <em>others</em> <em>away</em> instead of drawing them to himself like he intended.</p><p>As a child, he'd been bolder with his attempts at befriending the other kids his age, but soon lost a bit of his courage when some of them made it <em>very</em> obvious his presence wasn't needed.</p><p>"<em>Stop trying to be friends with us</em>," one of them told him one sweltering Monday afternoon. "<em>We don't want you here. Go find other friends</em>."</p><p>Kids were mean and cruel all the time, Wooyoung had reasoned, so even after crying his heart out that night alone in his small bedroom wondering what was <em>wrong</em> with him, he still tried to find another friend. Lots of people existed everywhere, he figured, all with different faces and personalities. He ought to find at least <em>someone</em> who wouldn't mind him, right?</p><p>Wooyoung didn't. After countless days of sitting by himself in every class and countless nights spent teary-eyed in his room, he soon concluded that maybe his <em>eyes</em> were the problem. They <em>had</em> to be. Why else would others actively avoid him?</p><p>But then when he saw this one kid in middle school try out several coloured contacts for the remainder of the school year, only to get pats on the back and different kids commenting about how 'cool' he looked, while they did nothing but stare at Wooyoung's eyes in distaste. Wooyoung began to lose a bit of hope.</p><p>'<em>How to embrace your inner </em><em>loner</em>' was a book Wooyoung read some time during his years spent in middle school. It was during recreation, so he'd gone to the library to read since he wasn't hungry and he didn't have anyone to talk with anyway.</p><p>The book was satire, and Wooyoung had only read it as a joke, only for it to dawn on him with horror how much he related to its contents.</p><p>That was when the anxiety began. The drive to <em>do</em> things the other kids were doing, to wear the same clothes, listen to the same music and even buy the same food. <em>Everything</em> Wooyoung did right then, he'd done to not seem like an outcast -- like a <em>loner</em>. Because he wasn't a loner, how could he be? Loners stayed by themselves and enjoyed it, but Wooyoung...Wooyoung <em>wanted friends</em>. He wanted to <em>belong </em>somewhere, to find his niche.</p><p>He soon realized there was no niche to fit into, because <em>he</em> was the niche that no one wanted to uncover.</p><p>Once highschool rolled around, Wooyoung stopped trying altogether. And it wasn't like anyone noticed anyway, as he'd been invisible before and he <em>still</em> was, but now he had no urge to try and reach out.</p><p>But, it was a hard thing to succumb to; being alone. It was difficult to not feel lonely when all Wooyoung could see were the TV shows, the songs, the movies which showcased people who'd managed to find true friendship despite all the hurdles and hardships they'd gone through.</p><p>He saw it around him too, people holding hands, talking, smiling. <em>Happy</em>. It made him feel worse, because how did everyone else seem to crack the code to gaining friends and companionship while he was the one being left in the dust? It wasn't fair.</p><p>But life hasn't been fair for a while now. And now, Wooyoung's so used to being left alone that he genuinely doesn't expect someone ever going out of their way just to spend more time with him.</p><p>That's why his mouth nearly drops when he spots a black car with tinted windows parked right outside his college campus, a very familiar face peering out of the backseat in broad daylight.</p><p>In pyjamas.</p><p>Wooyoung's legs dart across the pavement without a second thought, and then he's entering through the back, shutting the doors and rolling up the windows before any of the other students can see Choi San's face.</p><p>"Wooyoung! Or should I say 'Mr Nag Nag'? I think I like the latter one more," San says with a loud giggle, and Wooyoung's too alarmed with the sudden turn of events to notice the way his chest squeezes at the sound.</p><p>"What are you doing here?" Wooyoung asks, pauses, and then turns to watch the driver. "What is he doing here?"</p><p>Mr Kim just shrugs, bowing his head apologetically as if to say '<em>Sorry, couldn't stop </em><em>him</em>'.</p><p>"Hongjoong hyung told me you shouldn't go out when you're like -- " Wooyoung cuts himself off, but with the way San's brows furrow, he's heard the implication loud and clear.</p><p>"Like what?" San's expression is far too mature for the the white pjs he's donned in. Wooyoung avoids staring at his eyes, observing the little blue clouds on his pyjama sleeves instead.</p><p>Half of the week has passed, with Wooyoung navigating between going to college, relaying information to Hongjoong about how San's doing, staying at the house with San, and eating breakfast and dinner with him and Mingi. He hasn't told San about what happened that Sunday night, and with the way San hasn't mentioned it either, he figures it's best to forget it ever happened.</p><p>He'd been okay with the predictable schedule, and he'd assumed San was as well. Until now.</p><p>"<em>Like what</em>?" San repeats, while Mr Kim starts to drive.</p><p>Wooyoung sighs, rubbing his neck. He'd managed to stay on friendly terms with the older man for a few days now, and there's no way he plans on messing that up.</p><p>"Nothing," he finally decides on saying.</p><p>"No. Tell me right now," San's voice isn't forceful, but it <em>does</em> feel commanding, a much closer representation of the CEO people saw on the screen and in real life. It heightens Wooyoung's nervousness.</p><p>"Hyung told me you enter little space when you're stressed," he whispers, keeping his gaze lowered. His eyes fall on San's pale feet, which are submerged in equally as pale fuzzy rabbit slippers. "That's what I'd been meaning to say."</p><p>San says nothing for a few seconds, but then deeply exhales. "Whatever." He's pouting again, fiddling with the colourful beads around his wrist.</p><p>"Are you stressed now?" Wooyoung asks after a moment's hesitation. He hadn't planned on saying anything of the sort, but he noticed how jumpy San looks, as well as the way he keeps nibbling on his lower lip. The skin under his eyes are faint purple as well, highlighting the tiredness in them.</p><p>San looks out the window. "...A little."</p><p>"I'm sorry." Wooyoung wants to smack himself. He's so terrible at comforting others. "Um, what can I do to make you feel less...stressed?"</p><p>The older immediately lightens up, swerving towards Wooyoung to grin brightly at him. "Let's go to France together."</p><p>Wooyoung gawks. "<em>What</em>?"</p><p>"I believe what Sir Choi means is the restaurant called '<em>Fra:nce</em>', one of his favourite places to eat," Mr Kim corrects, his eyes still trained on the road. "It has a colon between the 'a' and 'n', so it tends to confuse others."</p><p>Wooyoung's heart calms a little, but a new question pops into his head as he stares at San. <em>So he allows others to call him sir, but not me</em>?</p><p>"What?" San's brows raise.</p><p>"Are we going there right now?" Wooyoung begins. "To France, I mean. The one with the colon."</p><p>"Duh," San beams, swinging his legs up and down excitedly.</p><p>"In those pyjamas?"</p><p>San stares at Wooyoung like it's the most <em>obvious</em> thing ever. "Yeah. Is there anything wrong with it?"</p><p>"It's not the first time Sir Choi has entered Fra:nce wearing casual clothing," Mr Kim adds. He must've seen the baffled look on Wooyoung's face. "The staff are already used to his..." the man's eyes shift over to San's colourful pyjamas, "<em>dressing</em>."</p><p>"Oh," Wooyoung answers, chewing his lip. He's a bit nervous, mostly because he's going to a restaurant he's never been to before, and with <em>Choi San</em>, of all people. Not that the man's bad, but...</p><p>Wooyoung yelps when something small and rock-like hits his chest. "Ow, what the -- "</p><p>San throws his head back and laughs so loud it reverberates inside the car, reminding Wooyoung of the villainous cackles in those Disney movies he used to watch as a kid. It's so unexpected too, something Wooyoung never thought he'd heard from San in a million years.</p><p>"Why did you do that?" Wooyoung questions, but San just laughs again, his deep dimples flashing.</p><p>"You were frowning too much," San pulls out another beady bracelet, ready to launch, "wanted to cheer you up."</p><p>"Hitting me is <em>not</em> cheering me up," Wooyoung snaps back, voice harsher than necessary. He shuts his mouth, wincing at the silence that follows. "I mean -- I'm sorry. I just -- I got hit and I lashed out and -- "</p><p>San leans in, face so close his breath lightly fans Wooyoung's face. He reaches up, and before the younger knows it, he's ruffling up his hair, messing up the previously neat strands.</p><p>Wooyoung immediately recoils, heart thrashing like a wild animal against his chest. He gulps, a giant lump in his throat. "What..."</p><p>San smiles at him. "You're cute."</p><p>Wooyoung's breath stutters in his throat, that strange feeling of nausea welling up in his stomach again. Heat crawls up the skin of his neck. "<em>C-Cute</em>?"</p><p>San twirls the rest of his childish bracelets, not caring to elaborate. "It's so <em>fun</em> to bother you," he states after a while.</p><p>Wooyoung looks away, rubbing his palms against his jeans when he feels just how clammy they are. It's embarrassing, but fortunately San isn't looking at him anymore, instead looking into his side of the windows, expression more somber now.</p><p>'Fra:nce' is an (unsurprisingly) fancy restaurant in Cheongdam, one of the more affluent districts of Gangnam, located in a neighbourhood Wooyoung has <em>obviously</em> never even been to until today.</p><p>The place reeks of exclusivity and wealth with its provincial, serene decor, its golden lit indoors alive with clinking wine glasses and the appetizing smell of rich, expertly seasoned foods.</p><p>Wooyoung keeps his head down as San waltzes inside with nothing but his vibrant pyjama set that looks so <em>jarringly</em> out of place with the whole theme of the restaurant, hoping with all his heart that they can both find their reserved spot <em>really</em> fucking soon before he dies due to all the stares he and San are recieving.</p><p>"Don't these people know you as a CEO?" Wooyoung questions after a hostess leads them into the upstairs floor, which is much more secluded than the one below.</p><p>Because if they do, he's <em>pretty</em> sure Hongjoong will have his head on a silver platter by tomorrow morning for allowing San to go about like this.</p><p>"<em>Chill</em>, my dude," San speaks, far less anxious than Wooyoung can ever be. "Mingi owns this place. Nothing's gonna get out, oh my <em>god</em>."</p><p>San looks exasperated as he takes his seat, already pouring himself a glass of champagne -- which he then proceeds to chug like he's downing a shot.</p><p>Wooyoung sits as well, brows furrowing at the way San's behaving. "Are you okay?"</p><p>San exhales a long, satisfied hum, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. "<em>Yep</em>, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"</p><p>Wooyoung looks to the right, and is bewitched by the image that greets him. He doesn't know if it'd been purposeful or not, but San had chosen the table closest to the outside view, which directly displays the brilliant honeyed sunset.</p><p>Wooyoung thinks it's one of the prettiest sights he's ever witnessed.</p><p>"...Are you embarrassed of me?"</p><p>Wooyoung's eyes flit over to where San stays, and just as he does -- like it's something perfectly timed -- he sees San <em>glow</em>, like he's made of precious jewels, an image even more enchanting than the disappearing sun.</p><p>"...ung. Wooyoung... <em>Wooyoung</em>!"</p><p>Wooyoung jolts, immediately snapping out of his daze. His eyes are wide, as if he's just been caught doing something he shouldn't have. "Hm?"</p><p>Luckily, San doesn't seem perplexed about his sudden zone out, doesn't ask about it either. "I asked if you find me embarrassing?"</p><p>"Embarrass...what..." Wooyoung's lungs feel tight, ridden of adequate oxygen. He clears his throat. "Why would you think that?"</p><p>"It's just..." San's fingers grip the expansive menu. They're shaking a little. "I sometimes do things without thinking. I work on impulse, especially when things get a bit too <em>hectic</em> for me."</p><p>He sighs, rubbing the space between his brows. "The others -- the ones Hongjoong hyung paid -- sometimes they weren't that... <em>nice</em> when I acted out."</p><p>Wooyoung's heart drops. "What? They were mean to you? Does Hongjoong hyung know?"</p><p>"Not really. I..." San's hand fumbles for the bottle of champagne, but drops it at the last second. "They weren't like, mean or anything. They just looked like they were...ashamed of being seen with me. Yeah..."</p><p>Wooyoung wants to say something -- <em>anything</em> -- to clear the thick silence, but he has no idea what can cheer San up right now. A waiter arrives at that moment to note their order, and for some time, nothing is heard but the steady breathing of both men.</p><p>"I'm not ashamed of you," Wooyoung blurts after the silence gets too much. When San looks at him, he breaks eye contact but continues. "I mean, you do things I would <em>never</em> do, like go out in public with pjs on, but that's <em>my</em> problem, not yours. I think you're okay."</p><p>"You aren't just saying that because you're living with me, are you?" San checks, a meek smile blooming on his face. It's one Wooyoung never knew he was capable of having until today.</p><p>"<em>Weeelll</em>," Wooyoung scrunches his face, shoulders awkwardly flapping into what he considers a good enough shrug. "You <em>can</em> fire me at a moment's notice, so I gotta flatter you a little, ya know."</p><p>San giggles behind his palm, soft and pleasing to the ears. "Do that again."</p><p>"What?" Wooyoung asks, flashing one of his rare, <em>real</em> smiles.</p><p>"That shoulder thing."</p><p>Wooyoung flaps his shoulders again without any further complaints, grinning when San barks out another round of laughter. "That?"</p><p>"Yeah, that." San's smiling so <em>big</em>, wiping amused tears from his eyes, and something deep twists in Wooyoung's chest. "You look like a baby bird taking its first flight."</p><p>"Really? Cool." Wooyoung does it once more, but abruptly stops when he sees the same waiter returning with their orders.</p><p>As if a side Wooyoung had no idea was in him all along had been unlocked, he spends his entire time at Fra:nce doing funny, dumb shit to try and get San to smile, and it works out most of the time.</p><p>"I know you're doing this on purpose," San tells him after he unsuccessfully tries to cut through beef with his non-dominant hand.</p><p>Wooyoung shrugs, keeping himself nonchalant even when he's <em>freaking out</em> on the inside at getting caught. "What about it?"</p><p>San chuckles, and smirks. "Nothing. I was just wondering if..."</p><p>"If what?"</p><p>"If there's any particular reason why you're doing it?" It's a simple question, but the way San is staring at Wooyoung through his sparkling eyes suddenly makes it the hardest one to answer.</p><p>"<em>And</em>," San continues, carding his fingers down his long hair. They linger on his collar, and then they're casually loosening two of the cloud-shaped buttons, revealing clear skin littered with a few beauty marks. "If, well..."</p><p>Wooyoung stops looking, lifting his gaze to meet San's unwavering one. "What are you doing?"</p><p>San blinks, eyes innocent. "What do you mean what am I doing?"</p><p>"Your buttons," Wooyoung gesticulates wildly at them, "you unbuttoned them. It's cold. Super cold. You'll get the flu if you aren't careful."</p><p>"Button them for me then, if you care so much."</p><p>"Button them yourself," Wooyoung answers. "Please."</p><p>"Whatever." The light in San's eyes dim, but he obeys nonetheless. After he's done, he rolls his eyes. "Is this good enough for you?"</p><p>"<em>Perfect</em>." Wooyoung searches for his drink and gobbles it down, weirdly thirsty for some reason.</p><p>The stars twinkle with more vigour that night, thin snow drizzling over the sidewalks.</p><p>"The first snow!" San beams with a grin that rivals the starry sky. He and Wooyoung have just exited the restaurant to head to where Mr Kim is parked, but his hands are already outstretched to catch the snowflakes that fall.</p><p>"Please, let's go to the car. Mr Kim is waiting," Wooyoung tries to reason, but as soon as he says this, he's spluttering on the fistful of snow San just blew all over his face. <em>What the fuck</em>?</p><p>San dashes off in the direction of his car howling with laughter, and Wooyoung bounds after him, feeling like his face is about to <em>fall off</em> as a result of the freezing downpour of snow.</p><p>He waits until he enters the vehicle before he smothers San with <em>his own</em> snow, grinning broadly when he hears the older man shout.</p><p>"I got you!" Wooyoung cheers, laughing at the glare San shoots him.</p><p>"I'll get you later, I <em>swear</em> I will."</p><p>"Please, men, behave a little more civilised," Mr Kim remarks from the front. San glares at him too, and Wooyoung finds it even harder to believe this man is a freaking CEO.</p><p>San notices his stare as he rids his face of the now melted snow. "What?"</p><p>Wooyoung shakes his head, but he can't get the thought of San grinning, with snowflakes in his hair and dusting his pink nose, out of his mind.</p><p>It follows him to bed.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p><b>a/n</b>: <em>thoughts</em>?</p>
</div><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. jung wooyoung is imperfect</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>cw: mentions of body image issues</em>
</p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>
      <b>« it's funny </b>
    </em>
    <em>
      <b>that</b>
    </em>
    <br/>
    <em>
      <b>others recognize me</b>
    </em>
    <br/>
    <em>
      <b>when i can't even </b>
    </em>
    <br/>
    <em>
      <b>recognize</b>
    </em>
    <em>
      <b> myself »</b>
    </em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>Wooyoung has never liked the way he looks.</p><p>But most people didn't as well, so that didn't make him special or worthy of any sort of attention.</p><p>Everyone had something they hated about themselves, from their weight, to the shape of their eyes, to their lips, acne scars and even the length of their jaw. That's why cosmetic surgery was a thing and why the beauty industry was a multi-billion dollar one, but Wooyoung hadn't been <em>that</em> intolerant of his looks to feel like he had to go under the knife to change them.</p><p>He just...sometimes wished he could look different, wished he could look <em>better</em>, wished he could look the way <em>he</em> wanted. Wished, wished, wished.</p><p>His mother had always been slim, with a youthful face and cheeks dipping with deep, unique dimples whenever she smiled or laughed out loud. She kept her makeup natural and her hair just shy of her shoulders, dyeing the ends many times into whatever colour she felt like having at the moment. She just <em>loved</em> experimenting with her looks, but that didn't count when it came to Wooyoung's clashing eye colours.</p><p>She also loved taking pictures, especially whenever she got all dolled up or attended high-end events, but it was only of herself or including Wooyoung's father at the time, but <em>never him</em>.</p><p>And Wooyoung's father was a tall, sturdy man with immaculate bone structure and a gravelly voice that drew eyes to him and commanded respect. He was well-built too, and whenever he wasn't chasing after women he would be often seen at the local gym, staying in shape.</p><p>He was obsessed with having a good body image, and never ceased to remind Wooyoung just how inferior he was compared to him in that department.</p><p>Wooyoung, at a certain point, envied the both of his parents. He envied his mother's pretty dimples and her soft features, and envied his father's height and charismatic, sociable personality. He wanted what they had, because he knew he just wasn't <em>enough</em>.</p><p>As Wooyoung grew, he became more and more aware of how lacking he was in comparison to his parents.</p><p>First, it was his eyes, and the way they kept drawing negative attention wherever he went. Then, he didn't like his nose, and how prominent and out of place he felt it looked on his face. Then, he took notice of how short he was when he thought of his other male classmates, and how their heights seemed to <em>skyrocket</em> once they hit puberty.</p><p>Then, there was the way his metabolism slowed down once he became a teenager, causing him to pay more attention to what he wore and ate. Sometimes, he'd stare at himself in the mirror and poke at the small stubborn pudge that'd developed on his tummy, wishing he had a wand so he could just <em>wave it all away</em> with a little bit of magic. But he didn't go to Hogwarts, and magic didn't exist in his world.</p><p>
  <em>"I see you watching that ice cream shop across the street. You want some?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Um, well...yeah..."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Speak up, son. I can't hear you."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I want some ice cream, dad."</em>
</p><p><em>"You shouldn't. You should run more instead, and gain muscles. That's what the girls your age are into these days</em>. <em>Don't you want a girlfriend?</em>"</p><p>"<em>I-I guess."</em></p><p>"<em>Then you have to lose weight, Wooyoung.</em>"</p><p>Wooyoung shakily inhales a lungful of the frosty air, and like a newborn, feels his heart begin to start again. He isn't walking down the road with his dad, but is now at the door of a room holding a jacuzzi he'd never known existed, spotting none other than Choi San submerged almost completely in it. </p><p>The room is brick layered, beaming a gloomy, ominous red, and coupled with a few candles here and there that flicker a bright orange, adding to the room's sensual atmosphere.</p><p>San is totally unaware of his presence, picking and bursting through the thick bubbles that gather around his shoulders and arms to hide what's underneath, and Wooyoung assures himself over and over again that he isn't a creep just because he's watching the older man take a bath. He really isn't.</p><p>He'd arrived at the mansion a few minutes earlier after he finished his classes, soon noticing how dark and silent everything was with no sign of San anywhere. Naturally, he'd assumed the worst and began searching through all the rooms he could find for the man, just to spot him here.</p><p>San leans back right then. His dark hair is damp, and the candles bathe his entire face in warm yellow. His skin is like sunset, gold swirling with the brown of his eyes.</p><p>He looks up without a moment's notice. Wooyoung's heart nearly <em>bursts</em>.</p><p>San reacts, moving so quickly it sends bits of foamy bubbles flying. "<em>Wooyoung</em>?"</p><p>Wooyoung turns to leave, ears red hot. "I -- I'm sorry -- "</p><p>"What are you doing here?" San's voice sounds strained, even without Wooyoung looking at his expression. "Why are you here?"</p><p>"I just -- I didn't see you and I -- " Wooyoung freezes, casting San a sidelong glance. He must've imagined it, but San sinks a little lower into the jacuzzi. "I'm sorry," he repeats.</p><p>San's eyes are big, alight with alarm and something else. Seeing him look so frazzled has Wooyoung reeling with guilt, even when he knows it's not any of his business, and that he shouldn't care this much for someone he barely knows.</p><p>"I really didn't mean to barge in like that," Wooyoung continues to explain. Now, his neck burns just as much as his ears. "I never meant to invade your privacy or ruin your bath. I just...I didn't see you anywhere and -- and I... yeah."</p><p>San stares at him for a second, and then he laughs. It's over the top and high-pitched, enunciating how fake and forced it is. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I should've told you something earlier so this awkward situation wouldn't have happened. I'm sometimes dumb like that, ha ha. I just, uhm, I'm not that...<em>comfortable</em> showing myself? Yeah. Sorry about that."</p><p>As if to prove his point, he retreats further into the heated bathtub, the frothy bubbles now grazing his chin.</p><p>"Oh. <em>Oh --</em> sorry," Wooyoung clears his throat. The sudden urge to leave is too high to resist. He turns his back to San, heading towards the door.</p><p>"<em>Wait</em>!"</p><p>Wooyoung pauses, something in him prompting him to turn back around. "Yeah?"</p><p>An unusual, timid smile is plastered across San's face. His hands poke and play with the bubbles, and he even blows one of them.</p><p>"Well, I made this place by myself. Decorated it, that is." San gestures excitedly at the glowing candles and the small rosy petals Wooyoung has now noticed floating over the surface of the tub. "I was wondering if...if it's okay?"</p><p>Wooyoung thinks it's <em>more</em> than okay, actually. He's just baffled as to why Choi San, a man who has <em>everything</em>, would ask for his input when he's nothing compared to him. "Why do you need my opinion?"</p><p>"Just 'cause." San bursts a particularly large bubble, his golden-hued face breaking out into a large grin at the feat.</p><p>Exponentially distracted, Wooyoung lets out the first thing he thinks right then.</p><p>"It's beautiful."</p><p>San stops looking at the bubbles, and his smile slowly fades away, eyes softening. "What?"</p><p>"It's really beautiful," Wooyoung obtains a little more courage, even enough to look San in the eye. "Everything is."</p><p>"Really?"</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>San averts his eyes, shyly smiling to himself. He proceeds to wriggle his fingers, admiring them. "Hmm, well, I already knew that, but thanks."</p><p>"Sure, no problem." All the bravery Wooyoung manifested vanishes at that moment. He rubs his clammy palms down his sweater. San makes it worse even if he's just staring at the bubbles, grinning. "I'll uh, get going then."</p><p>San stares at him, waving at him in '<em>tiny</em>'. "Okay."</p><p>Wooyoung launches out of the room, heart in his throat and speeding thoughts overtaking his mind. <em>What the fuck just happened?</em> He doesn't have a single clue.</p><p>He plops himself on the sofa and waits, too lazy to switch on the room's lights (he tried the clapping thing and it didn't work). Before he knows it, he starts thinking of his and San's encounter at the tub, how the older man's face <em>shone</em> when he talked and smiled, and his dimples.</p><p><em>Hi, lovely</em>. Wooyoung suddenly remembers the way Hongjoong referred to San when they first met, and it makes him want to scream.</p><p>"Stop it," he tells himself.</p><p>"Stop what?"</p><p>Wooyoung jumps, almost tumbling off the couch. Behind him, there's rigorous cackling.</p><p>"This is so fun. I should scare you again sometime."</p><p>Wooyoung turns to see San clap, and then all the bulbs flicker on, illuminating the exquisite sitting room as well as the dressing gown San's donned in.</p><p>It's cotton soft, and turquoise, exposing just the dip of San's collarbones. Wooyoung feels his chest squeeze, and he hates it because he doesn't know why he feels that way.</p><p>"Sorry I took so long, but it was the most enjoyable bath I've taken in a while," San's saying, exhaling a satisfied breath. "<em>Whoo</em>, I feel <em>really</em> good."</p><p>Wooyoung cracks a chuckle at that, despite himself. "Are you okay?"</p><p>"What do you mean?" San grins at him, tilting his head. "I feel very fine. <em>Happy</em>, actually."</p><p>"I'm glad you are." Wooyoung tugs at his sweater sleeves. '<em>Cause</em><em> I'm not. I'm really fucking nervous for whatever reason, and it's fucking frustrating</em>.</p><p>"Mingi won't be coming tonight, although I'm sure you had a hunch due to how dark it was when you came back from your classes," San explains, leisurely pacing around the room. "<em>Sigh</em>. It's not his fault though, his schedule's incredibly packed starting from today."</p><p>Wooyoung's eyes run down his body before he can restrain them. He takes in the older's wide shoulders, and his surprisingly small, slim waist.</p><p>San immediately spins around, nearly catching Wooyoung right in the act. He's still smiling, and Wooyoung isn't used to it, because it keeps filling his chest with this weird type of warmth.</p><p>"I think we should order out."</p><p>"What about cooking the food ourselves?" Wooyoung regrets the suggestion as soon as it leaves his mouth, but San has already made his way over to him, a big smile on his face.</p><p>"Oh my god, <em>why</em> didn't I think of that?" San laughs, and then <em>nudges</em> Wooyoung on the arm for no apparent reason. "I'll have to warn you, though. I suck real bad at cooking."</p><p>"You're seriously agreeing? But Mingi said -- " Wooyoung stops, cheeks flaming up.</p><p>San's eyes narrow. "Mingi said what?"</p><p>"He said you only allow him to cook homemade food for you."</p><p>San smiles a little at that. "Oh, right. I guess I can make an exception for you."</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>"Yeah." San snaps his fingers, face lighting up. "<em>Oh</em>! I almost forgot. I'll bring the aprons. It's gonna be <em>awesome</em>."</p><p>"Not if we burn down the house first."</p><p>"With our insane cooking skills, you mean."</p><p>They both laugh at that, and San excuses himself while Wooyoung heads into the kitchen, once more struck by how refined and professional everything looks.</p><p>He lightly runs his fingers over the silver counter, lost in thought until San shows up with a bunch of aprons in his arms.</p><p>"They've been there for a while since Mingi rarely ever uses them," the CEO explains. He passes one of them to Wooyoung, and as soon as Wooyoung opens it up, he barks out laughing.</p><p>"Really?" Wooyoung purses his lips at the black apron, which has defined, realistic looking abs printed on it.</p><p>"What? I thought it looked funny." San can't stop laughing. He leans closer. "I wanna see you wear it."</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't know if San is joking or not, but he knows <em>he</em> doesn't want to wear it. Not when he stares at the picture and gets reminded of all the times his father reprimanded him for 'eating too much'.</p><p>"I don't want it."</p><p>San's brows furrow. "Why?"</p><p>Wooyoung knows his reasoning for not wanting to wear that apron is dumb -- and extremely childish -- and he's probably sure San would think the same if he knew. He wants to lie, but San's eyes are sincere, <em>caring</em>. At that moment, he doesn't look like someone who'd tear him apart just because of how he felt.</p><p>"I'm not...muscular or anything," Wooyoung admits after a while. "Seeing it kinda makes me feel a whole lot worse about myself."</p><p>"Oh." It's hard to tell what San's thoughts are about his words, but it doesn't matter, because his next actions soon make it clear. He takes the apron, scrunches it up, and tosses it elsewhere before Wooyoung can count to three.</p><p>Wooyoung blinks, flabbergasted. "Hey, I didn't mean to throw it away -- "</p><p>"Nah. It's old anyway. I think I'd like <em>this</em> one more on you," San answers, pulling out a pale blue apron with tiny heads of grumpy looking cats splattered all over it.</p><p>"Why are your aprons <em>so weird</em>? Where the hell did you get them?" Wooyoung comments with a soft chuckle. A part of him feels relieved, and a little <em>touched</em> due to what San had done. He won't ever admit it out loud, though.</p><p>San winks, and Wooyoung's heart rate picks up. "That's a secret."</p><p>Wooyoung clears his throat. "Okay. So, uh, where were we?"</p><p>"We're cooking. But <em>first</em>," San steps behind Wooyoung without a moment's notice, and the younger man <em>stops</em> breathing just as he feels San's hands on his neck, "let's get you all tied up, shall we?"</p><p>"That sounds <em>weird</em>."</p><p>"I think 'weird' has <em>got</em> to be your favourite word, Wooyoung."</p><p>Wooyoung feels San breathing on his back, and his body straightens as San's hands inch down his sides to wrap the apron around his waist. Chills descend down his spine as San tightly tugs the strings into a little bow.</p><p>"That's it," San comments, voice right next to Wooyoung's ear. "Now you're ready."</p><p>Wooyoung steps away, hands trembling. He wrings them together, feeling like he'd just ran a marathon. "Yeah. Uh, what about yours?"</p><p>San takes a purple one with yellow polka dots, which would've looked a little more normal if not for the cartoon baby dragon plastered on the middle of it. Why the hell is it there? Wooyoung has no idea.</p><p>"Put them on for me?" San asks, his hands on his hips. Wooyoung's eyes notice the slimness of his waist again, and he coughs, much harsher this time.</p><p>"Nope, sorry. Need to look for recipes."</p><p>"Meanie." San pouts, but he isn't offended. He hands his phone to Wooyoung, <em>just like that</em>, and the younger has to (embarrassingly) struggle a bit before he gets a hang of the device.</p><p>In the middle of Wooyoung's search, San speaks up. "Hey, I just realized something."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"I realized that sometimes I'd need to call you in advance in case anything changes in the house -- like tonight." San leans on the counter, head on his palm as he watches Wooyoung. "But then I remembered I don't have your number."</p><p>"Oh. I thought Hongjoong hyung gave it to you already."</p><p>"<em>No, silly,</em>" San grins. "Your <em>new</em> number. I'm gonna get you a new phone."</p><p>Wooyoung stops typing, stares at San. "What?"</p><p>"Don't you want a new phone? I wanna be able to send you <em>whatever</em>, and that one you have now isn't cutting it," San answers. It's obvious he thinks it's the best idea ever, with the way he can barely contain his enthusiasm.</p><p>"...Oh." Wooyoung scratches the back of his ear, not knowing how to feel. "I don't know."</p><p>"Come <em>ooonn</em>," San pleads. "I'll even get you whichever brand you want -- even the latest iPhone. I seriously don't care when it comes to you. And, I mean, you <em>are</em> getting paid to live with me, after all. Might as well look it."</p><p>Wooyoung's jaw tenses, wincing at San's words. It's like a slap of reality, snapping him out of the euphoria he'd previously felt. Right. He's only here because he's supposed to be babysitting Choi San. How could he have forgotten so easily?</p><p>"Are you okay?" San asks, concern apparent on his face.</p><p>"Yeah," Wooyoung lies. "I just -- I don't think you should spend your money on me. I'm already living with you. It's more than enough."</p><p>"Aren't we friends?" San's eyes glimmer with hope. "I <em>want</em> to spend my money on you."</p><p><em>That sounds even worse</em>. Wooyoung hates the way it makes him feel; like he's worthless and pathetic.</p><p>"Let's try japchae," he changes the subject, hoping San falls for it. "I'm feeling for japchae."</p><p>San looks at him for a few nervewrecking moments, before he frowns in distaste. "But I don't like vegetables, though."</p><p>"Vegetables are <em>healthy. </em>So suck it up you big baby," Wooyoung argues, smiling when he hears San's overdramatic gasp.</p><p>"I'm not a big baby."</p><p>"What about when you're in -- " Wooyoung halts, and finishes in a much smaller voice, "...little space?"</p><p>San lightly shoves his shoulder, but his smile is bit stiff. "You don't need to be so scared to say it. It's not a taboo."</p><p>"I don't think it is. I just...thought you'd find offense to it."</p><p>"Well I <em>don't</em>." San leans in, smelling like milk and honey, only to walk past a rigid Wooyoung and grab an apple on the fruit basket. "Appetizer," he explains.</p><p>Wooyoung swallows thickly, busying himself with opening the cupboards to take out the ingredients. "So, japchae it is then?"</p><p>"I'm only eating it because of you," San replies, begrudgingly agreeing.</p><p>"I'll hold you to that promise. You have to eat it all even if it ends up tasting like crap," Wooyoung warns. San's words still ring in his ear, as well as what he's truly here for, but right now, he doesn't want to think about it. "Okay?"</p><p>San nods. "Okay."</p><p>A meal that isn't supposed to take <em>that</em> long to make ends up taking both men much longer, and Wooyoung <em>swears</em> it's because of San.</p><p>The older likes to taste <em>a lot</em> of things, Wooyoung realized.</p><p>As Wooyoung set up the potato starch noodles, sprinkled in the seasoning, and made the rice, there San was, hovering around him just to taste some of it before he got caught. He <em>even</em> nibbled on one of the vegetables Wooyoung had chopped up, only for his face to twist in disgust afterwards.</p><p>And it was highly distracting, and <em>still is</em>, because Wooyoung actually wants to do a good job on the japchae. But the way San keeps standing so <em>close</em> to him, keeps eating everything and <em>touching</em> him is driving him <em>crazy</em>, and not in the good way.</p><p>"I think the japchae's ready, no?" San says when Wooyoung stirs up everything in the pot after managing to successfully complete everything despite San being, well, <em>San</em>. "I wanna see how it tastes."</p><p>"We gotta serve it on plates first," Wooyoung answers, but San's already taking a forkful of japchae. Instead of eating it like Wooyoung had expected, San moves closer to him, blowing gently on the noodles.</p><p>"You should have the first taste of it. You did the most work after all," San tells him, holding the fork to Wooyoung's lips.</p><p>"Yeah. And hyung was there eating everything -- " Wooyoung shuts his mouth, but the damage has already been done.</p><p>"Hyung," San repeats. Something playful yet ardent flutters in his eyes. "I'm a '<em>hyung</em>' to you now, huh?"</p><p>Wooyoung bites off the forkful of japchae and dodges all of San's attempts at teasing him. He's in a much better mood now than before, that's for sure. Maybe it's the delicious taste of the japchae he made that did it.</p><p>He tries to ignore the fervid feeling he gets in his chest when he sees San sneakily gobble some japchae out of the same fork.</p><p>Dinner goes by much smoother than Wooyoung expected. San is well-behaved -- for the most part, until he makes an angry face out of stringy noodles and scallops and names it Mr Nag Nag. Aka Jung Wooyoung.</p><p>And sometimes, as they chat about whatever, Wooyoung can feel San's gaze lingering on his face, specifically his <em>eyes</em>, but he never speaks up or acknowledges it. He isn't in the mood to, and doesn't think he ever will be.</p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The next day during his communications course, Wooyoung feels his phone vibrate with a new message.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Already hidden in the back of the lecture hall, he pulls the phone out to check.</p>
</div><p><br/>- <b>mr choi</b></p><p>[image attached]</p><p></p><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><p><br/>- <b>mr choi</b><br/><em>i'm </em><em>boreedd</em><br/><em>hey, where are u??</em></p><p>Wooyoung nearly drops his phone.</p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>i'm in class san</em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>and ????</em><br/><em>why the feet pic??</em></p><p>- <b>mr choi</b><br/><em>so no more hyung now</em> 😖</p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>you didn't answer my question</em></p><p>- <b>mr choi</b><br/><em>i felt cute</em> 🥺</p><p>Wooyoung tries, but fails, to calm himself down.</p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>feet pics are so </em><em>weirddd</em><em> tho</em><br/><em>i don't like them</em></p><p>- <b>mr choi</b></p><p>[image attached]</p><p></p><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><p><br/>- <b>mr choi</b><br/><em>do you prefer this instead?</em></p><p>Wooyoung covers his phone before any of the other students can see anything, particularly the older's face.</p><p>- <b>mr choi</b><br/><em>its not that new,,</em><br/><em>you'll get much better ones when you finally allow hyung to get you a new phone </em>😌</p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>oh my god</em><br/><em>you aren't gonna let it go, are you</em></p><p>- <b>mr choi</b><br/><em>noppee</em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>i dont need a new phone</em></p><p>- <b>mr choi</b><br/><em>accept hyung's lovee</em></p><p>Wooyoung scoffs out loud, skin flushing with embarrassment when he feels a few stares on him.</p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>i gotta go dude</em></p><p>- <b>mr choi</b><br/><em>oof </em><br/><em>now i'm being dude-zoned</em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>idc</em></p><p>- <b>mr choi</b><br/><em>when's your birthday?</em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>???</em><br/><em>why?</em></p><p>- <b>mr choi</b><br/><em>its </em><em>november</em><em> 26, right?</em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>why'd you ask if you already knew?</em></p><p>- <b>mr choi</b><br/><em>so i know i'm actually right</em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>woooww</em></p><p>- <b>mr choi</b><br/><em>yes, wow </em></p><p>- <b>mr choi</b><br/><em>happy birthday in advance, mr nag nag</em>🥳<br/><em>see you after classes</em></p><p>Wooyoung cracks a small smile at that. San doesn't know, but this is his first time being wished a happy birthday in a while.</p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>goodbye sir</em>👋🏼👋🏼</p><p>- <b>mr choi</b><br/><em>wooyoung</em> 😑</p><p>Wooyoung grins and pockets his phone, going back to listening to the professor.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. choi san is more</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <b>
      <em>« in the sea of familiar </em>
    </b>
    <em>
      <b>strangers</b>
    </em>
    <br/>
    <b>
      <em>i find your face the quickest »</em>
    </b>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>Nothing in life is complete without the good and the bad moments. So when Wooyoung spends the entire night laughing his ass off, lightheaded with San so close and comfortable with him as they play <em>Farmer's Universe</em> well until past midnight, he should've expected he was going to crash and burn sometime later on. He really should've.</p><p>Like a high he chases until its final moments, he gets a decent sleep but wakes up early that morning in a cold sweat after a particularly graphic nightmare. It isn't new, but a recurring one he used have every other night after his parents' had their fallout with eachother.</p><p>His good mood is depleted, happiness withering into a faded, distant emotion as he weaves his fingers frustratedly through his messy hair. A headache begins to pound away at the back of his skull, and he just wants to <em>throw</em> something against the wall and watch it scatter into smithereens. </p><p>Wooyoung feels like he's sinking and he can't stop. He counts his heartbeat, only to realize it's too quick, and the large bedroom suddenly becomes so small that he feels claustrophobic.</p><p>He turns on his side so the light coming from the windows would stop hitting his eyes, and inhales huge gulps of oxygen so his lungs won't feel like they're scraping against his fucking chest anymore, but it isn't working. He tugs one of the pillows over his head and squeezes his eyes shut, rendering himself temporarily blind.</p><p>It doesn't work. He, instead, feels sick.</p><p>He doesn't hear the knock on his door, but perks up at the sound of it opening. A man stands there, kind of tall from this angle, excrutiatingly familiar.</p><p>Wooyoung stiffens with shame, even when more than half of the room's still drenched in darkness.</p><p>"Good morning," Jeong Yunho greets, tone polite. From what Wooyoung can see, he's dressed in a garnet red button-down, black slacks and loafers. And just like before, not a single strand of his brown hair is out of place on his head. It makes Wooyoung wonder what time he arrived. What time he got <em>dressed</em>, even.</p><p>"Good morning," Wooyoung answers. Compared to Yunho's, his voice sounds like he needs a drink. <em>Multiple</em> drinks, in fact.</p><p>He's suddenly reminded of Mingi when Jeong Yunho flashes a small smile at him, but unlike Mingi who'd initiate small talk, yet give him his space, Jeong Yunho is blunt; a little intimidating.</p><p>"Get up. We only have about an hour to get ready," the tall man says, and then he's leaving the bedroom.</p><p>Wooyoung drops off the bed and follows after him, more than self-conscious as a result of the man's much longer legs. "G-Get ready? Why?"</p><p>Yunho keeps walking, and it takes Wooyoung a hot minute to realize where they're heading.</p><p>Yunho doesn't even hesitate to open San's bedroom, doesn't bother to <em>knock</em> either, and Wooyoung stands by the doorway wide-eyed as Yunho strolls into the massively sized room, feeling like he's witnessing something he shouldn't.</p><p>"Rise and shine, <em>Mountain</em>!" Yunho drags all the blinds open, spilling early morning sunlight into the area. Wooyoung gapes at the flourishing hills and almost disappearing rivers he spots in the distance, as he hadn't seen those his first time here.</p><p>His attention snaps back to San when the man audibly groans, shuffling deeper into the baby blue duvet with printed tiny white birds that looks so out of place next to the modern antique decor of his bedroom.</p><p>"Wake up, Mountain," Yunho says again. His voice when addressing San is tender, taking Wooyoung aback. "I <em>know</em> you hate waking up early, but this time you gotta. You need to be present at work today."</p><p><em>So they're heading to Choi's Highlight</em>?</p><p>San timidly slips his head out of the duvet, his long black and silver hair akin to a bird's nest. Wooyoung doesn't have time to ponder over that however, when San sits up right then, exposing his bare back.</p><p>It's just as broad as Wooyoung envisioned, a small, barely-there pink mark grazing just the top of his right shoulder.</p><p>Blood rushes to Wooyoung's cheeks as if he's some fucking horny, sex-deprived teenager.</p><p>Before San can realize he's there, Yunho walks up to Wooyoung, instinctively causing the shorter man to take a few steps back.</p><p>"Sorry, but you have to leave right now," Yunho relays, palms pressed over the edges of the doorway, effectively blocking Wooyoung's view. There's a ring on his left hand, the fourth finger. "Go get dressed too."</p><p>"I'm sorry," Wooyoung spatters, jolting when Yunho leaves the bedroom to shut the door. "But Hongjoong hyung -- he never told me anything about going anywhere today."</p><p>The look on Yunho's face is unreadable, but it makes Wooyoung feel like a dumb, whiny kid. "There's been a change of schedule. A boardroom meeting was suddenly requested only a few hours ago, that's why I came as soon as I can."</p><p>"...Oh," Wooyoung mumbles.</p><p>"You've got pretty eyes, by the way," Yunho says with a faint smile.</p><p><em>Fucking </em><em>shit</em>. Wooyoung freaks out and looks away, cursing at himself for being so negligent about his heterochromia.</p><p>Yunho closes the door again, only this time, he's nowhere in sight. Wooyoung finally feels like he can breathe.</p><p>He doesn't spend too long in his adjoined bathroom; he <em>can't</em>, anyways, with his tumbling, incongruent thoughts and ricocheting heartbeat.</p><p>When he leaves the bathroom, there's a pile of neatly stacked clothes on his bed. Wooyoung's neck flushes as he reads the small note beside it.</p><p><em>San's pick</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung hardly feels like himself when he stands in front of the life-sized mirror, looking over his outfit. It's a lovely mint turtleneck tucked into white, cotton trousers, complete with a pair of Chelsea boots which are his exact size. He doesn't know how to feel at the possibility of San staring at his feet long enough to know what fits him.</p><p>His left eye shines brighter than ever, considering his turtleneck is similar in colour, which ruins some of Wooyoung's love for the material. He hastily puts on his contacts, styles his hair to part in the middle, and sprays on some cologne. When he's done with all this, he feels he doesn't look half bad.</p><p>Outside is cold, absent of much warmth as Wooyoung steps out. He hates how dark and empty it is, as it heightens just how little he belongs to this place. The spacious rooms, expensive decors and brand-name outfits <em>aren't him,</em> and normally he wouldn't have cared, but now...</p><p>"There you are," Yunho's voice interrupts Wooyoung's thoughts. He hums approvingly at the shorter's outfit. "<em>Thank god</em> you're already dressed. We still have some time left, come on."</p><p>Wooyoung spots San seated in the livingroom, falters in his movement once he takes in the way he's dressed.</p><p>The man's hair is slicked back, fair strands of silver falling on top his eyes. He's dressed in the classic black suit and tie, one that isn't supposed to look so good but it <em>does</em>. Wooyoung spots what looks like beige eyeshadow shimmering across his eyes, and his lips are glazed, the same colour as the faint blush on his cheeks.</p><p>There's no one else there except for the three of them. Wooyoung distractedly wonders if Yunho was the one who did his makeup, or if San did it himself.</p><p>San doesn't spare Wooyoung a single glance as Yunho bustles around him, tucking him into a winter coat and ushering him out the house with not a second to waste.</p><p>His behaviour has something heavy digging into Wooyoung's chest, that is until Yunho shows up, shoving something hard into his hand.</p><p>"Your badge," Yunho curtly explains. "If anyone sees you there they'd assume you're a new intern. Don't do anything suspicious."</p><p>Wooyoung nods, but his eyes trail down to the parked SUV a few feet away that San just entered. "Is...is San okay?"</p><p>"He's fine," Yunho assures, yet Wooyoung catches the way his gaze wavers. "Just isn't too happy about the recent turn of events, like I am. I bet those executives waited until Joong was out of the country to pull this shit. What a bunch of <em>snakes</em>."</p><p>His harsh tone startles Wooyoung, but he doesn't comment on it. It isn't his business, though he can't help but look San's way again.</p><p>"You won't leave the car when we arrive at the company, but will come in from the back for obvious reasons," Yunho continues to explain. He talks fast -- <em>walks fast too</em> -- and Wooyoung has to struggle to even keep up with him. "And like I said earlier, don't do anything that'll make the others think you don't belong. I'm sure Hongjoong has told you about keeping quiet?"</p><p>Wooyoung clears his throat, not allowing Yunho's brash way of speaking to get to him. "Yeah," he answers. "Made me sign a NDA and everything."</p><p>"Good," Yunho opens the car door to let Wooyoung in. "San wants you there with him, so that's why you aren't going to use a second car."</p><p>Wooyoung nods and enters, heartbeat thumping in his ears when his and San's eyes meet.</p><p>"Hey," Wooyoung begins, his voice hushed for some reason.</p><p>"Hi." San's gaze lingers on his clothing, and it's when he looks up that Wooyoung sees just how <em>tired</em> he is. He grins warmly, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "You look really nice, Wooyoung-ah."</p><p>"You look really nice too," Wooyoung replies, which he means. It's almost pathetic how his eyes keep darting over to San, because each time they do he just gets reminded of how <em>otherworldly</em> San's good looks are.</p><p><em>Stop staring at him so fucking much</em>, a voice in his head yells. He busies himself with watching Yunho, who's seated at the front with the driver, a phone clutched in his grip.</p><p>"You alright?" Wooyoung's surprised to hear these words, as they don't come from him but San instead.</p><p>"Uh, yeah." Wooyoung notices the pale purple beads San fiddles about with on his wrist. <em>He's nervous</em>. "What about you?"</p><p>San tugs on one of them, knuckles white. He flattens his lips. "...Not really."</p><p>"Hey," Wooyoung finds himself saying, "where'd you get my outfit from? And the shoes? I don't remember telling you anything about my shoe size."</p><p>He's trying to change the subject, get San's mind on something else while the car starts to head out into the road.</p><p>San leans into the leather seats. It's stupid how Wooyoung's face heats up the second he sees San looking over his clothes again, just to stop on his face.</p><p>"The clothes are mine." San's now fumbling with his Cartier watch. He smiles at Wooyoung's stunned expression. "I just bought them, thought they'd fit you. I was right. The shoes...they're a lucky guess."</p><p>"I really like them."</p><p>"Of course you do," San brags. "<em>I</em> bought them."</p><p>Wooyoung laughs at this, but it disappears when he hears Jeong Yunho's voice from the front.</p><p>"What the hell? What do you mean <em>they're</em> going to be there? They already are? Can't you stop them?" Yunho barks out into his phone, jaw clenching. An unfamiliar, out of place frown plasters over his face as he takes out his glasses to rub his forehead. "It's too goddamn early for this."</p><p>"What's going on?" San questions.</p><p>Yunho turns to face both men, specifically San. "<em>Reporters</em>. They're gonna be there. Someone must've leaked about you returning after over a month of being absent."</p><p>Wooyoung sees how San's face falls into one of indifference, and he looks at Yunho. "What should I do?"</p><p>"Nothing. We'll park with just enough distance to separate us from the more desperate ones," Yunho explains. He sounds a little too calm. "I'll leave with San and the driver'll take off with you."</p><p>"Okay," Wooyoung nods. He stares at San, noting how he's starting to chew on his lower lip. "Hyung, that'll ruin your makeup."</p><p>San whines, a little like a kid. Wooyoung realizes the seriousness of the situation right then. San's so stressed out he's beginning to act all childlike again.</p><p>"Give me your hand," Wooyoung instructs.</p><p>"What're you gonna do with it?" San asks with a pout, shoving said hand into his suit jacket.</p><p>"I know you don't like what's happening -- "</p><p>"I hate it," San breathes.</p><p>" -- so I wanna make things easier," Wooyoung continues, scooting a bit closer. He rolls out the simple metal band adorning his wrist, smiling when San eyes it with interest. "We can switch bracelets. So when you're nervous or find it hard to concentrate, you can look at mine and feel better, although it doesn't look as nice as yours."</p><p>It's subtle, the smile on San's face. But then it blossoms into a full-blown grin. "Really? You don't mind?"</p><p>"Uh, no?" Wooyoung rubs his neck, feeling another set of eyes on him. "I mean, it's nothing special but -- "</p><p>Wooyoung nearly falls over, inhaling a whiff of fragrant, oriental cologne when a pair of arms suddenly engulf him. His heart rate skyrockets as he feels San's head on his shoulder, nestling into it. <em>Oh my god</em>.</p><p>"That's <em>such</em> a good idea! I love it," San utters, arms still tightly bound around Wooyoung's waist. Only now, he's fisting the fabric of his turtleneck. "I love it..."</p><p>Wooyoung casts a frenzied glance at Yunho, who just shakes his head at him.</p><p>"I love it too. But, uh -- " Wooyoung's breath hitches in his throat as San shifts <em>even closer</em>. "I'm kinda getting a little bit suffocated here. Just a <em>lil</em>' bit."</p><p>San mumbles something unintelligible.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Nothing." San pulls away, but Wooyoung's heart is still beating way too quickly, like he's about to fall off a cliff with nothing to hold on to. "I like your bracelet more than mine."</p><p>Wooyoung can't hide his smile as San wears his bracelet, which doesn't clash as much with his watch as his own colourful ones. The younger slides on the lilac bracelets San gifts him as well.</p><p>"You have your phone with you, right?" Wooyoung asks when he spots San looking out the window at the busy city streets.</p><p>"Mhm."</p><p>"Text me whenever you absolutely need to. Don't get caught though."</p><p>Yunho's brows furrow. "I genuinely do <em>not</em> advice that -- "</p><p>"I will!" San beams, far happier than he'd been before. "Thanks, Woo."</p><p>Wooyoung parts his lips to answer back, but freezes at the sight that greets him. By now, the sun is fully out, illuminating the pale blue sky and the congregation of people huddled in front of Choi's Highlight.</p><p>Yunho doesn't waste time, and neither does San. They leave the SUV at the nick of time, Yunho sticking to San's side like a bodyguard while San pulls on a pair of black shades, but that doesn't seem to matter when only a few seconds later, they're swarmed with reporters with cameras who don't know a single thing about personal space.</p><p>It alarms Wooyoung, because the concept of someone being that close to you without your consent is absolutely <em>frightening</em>.</p><p>"Don't worry," the driver states. "They're used to it."</p><p>That doesn't make Wooyoung feel any better. Hell, it just makes him all the more aware of just how <em>different</em> his and San's worlds are.</p><p>He remembers the time he thought San had everything. He still does, but at the cost of his losing the sole thing all humans desire: privacy.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung abstains from wandering about the company like he has nothing to do, but he ends up strolling into the snack bar, which he should've expected the company would have, to be honest. It's nice surprise when he discovers the things there are free of charge (a perk of having an ID), and erases his father's disapproving glare off his mind as he helps himself to two slices of lemon cake and black coffee. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>His fork sinks easily into the pretty cake, and he's about to take a bite when his phone rings. It's Hongjoong. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung leans over the small table he secured for himself, and makes sure his phone's hidden as he picks up. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"<em>Wooyoung, oh my god, I just heard about what happened from Yun. How are you? Where are you right now?"</em></p>
</div><p><br/>Wooyoung takes a forkful of the spongy cake. It's just as tasty as he'd imagined. "I'm in the company. By the snack bar, since I'm now apparently an intern thanks to Yunho-ssi. And I'm good, thanks for asking."</p><p>"<em>That's good. San's going to be there for a while. Hope you won't mind waiting?"</em></p><p>Wooyoung wonders why the blue haired man keeps asking for his opinion when he's the one who hired him in the first place.</p><p>"Well, I don't really mind. You're paying me for this, after all."</p><p>"<em>Yeah -- I know,"</em> Hongjoong's voice sounds clipped, but he chuckles and it's gone. "<em>But I'm glad you're there. And order whatever you want too while you're at it</em>." He pauses. "<em>I'm currently heading to a meeting, so I can't stay long, but I recommend the lemon cake. It's really good -- San's favourite</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung stops eating. "Really?"</p><p>"<em>Yeah. Wait -- are you eating it right now?" </em></p><p>"Uh, yeah."</p><p>Hongjoong laughs. "<em>That's delightful. I'm sure San would love that if he heard."</em></p><p>"<em>Please</em> don't tell him anything," Wooyoung begs, panicking when Hongjoong laughs. "No, seriously, he's going to be a little tease about it."</p><p><em>"I can see you both are more comfortable with each other now</em>," Hongjoong says. Fortunately, he's on the other line so he can't see the look on Wooyoung's face. "<em>Alright, I won't say anything. Have a good day, Wooyoung."</em></p><p>"You too, hyung."</p><p>Just as Hongjoong hangs up, a message enters his phone.</p><p>- <b>mr choi</b><br/><em>get me out of here</em><br/><em>i want to </em><em>sleeeppp</em></p><p>A smile breaks through Wooyoung's face.</p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>hongjoong hyung just called</em><br/><em>said you're gonna be there for a while longer</em><br/><em>sucks to be you</em></p><p>- <b>mr choi</b><br/><em>how could you </em><em>say that</em> 😭</p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>i'm kidding oh my god</em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>you see the bracelet on your wrist?</em><br/><em>think of that as me w you</em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>wait, no</em><br/><em>thats weird</em></p><p>- <b>mr choi</b><br/><em>mission accepted</em> 😚</p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>why the kissy face tho</em></p><p>- <b>mr choi</b><br/><em>i like it</em> 😘😘😘</p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>arghhh</em><em> pls go back to your boardroom meeting or whatever</em></p><p>- <b>mr choi</b><br/><em>call me hyung and i will</em></p><p>Wooyoung's chest squeezes.</p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>hyung</em></p><p>- <b>mr choi</b><br/><em>shit i smiled too wide and now some of them are staring at me</em><br/><em>gtg</em> 👋🏻👋🏻</p><p>Wooyoung sets his phone down, about to continue with his food when he notices the group of three seated not to far off from him. At first, he fears they'll see him and <em>know</em> he's not from here, but they're too busy discussing something with each other.</p><p>"I heard the CEO came back," one of them, a lady with long, pitch black hair and purple lipstick says. "Ooh, do you think he's gonna do one of those photoshoots he does every once in a while again?"</p><p>"There's no way he would, Subin," another woman says. "Don't you know how the last meeting he had went? People said he just <em>ran off</em> when one of the directors were giving a speech and disappeared."</p><p>"Oh my god, really?" 'Subin' says.</p><p>"Yes, really. That clearly isn't normal."</p><p>"But he's so hot though. What a shame."</p><p>Wooyoung ducks his head, hoping to seem as unsuspicious as possible.</p><p>"The guy honestly sounds like a nutcase," the only man in the group says. His voice is lowered, but Wooyoung can still hear him. "It's not his first time going off the grid, and I'm <em>pretty</em> sure he hates his position. Everyone knows Kim is a much better candidate for CEO. I mean, he pretty much runs the company anyways."</p><p>"You think he's only here to prove to everyone that he isn't crazy?" Subin asks.</p><p>"<em>Exactly</em>."</p><p>"I know right? He's only there because his dad -- hold on, I just got a text that we've gotta head back in five minutes."</p><p>"This is why I hate being a designer."</p><p>"You are <em>such</em> a shitty liar."</p><p>In another world, one without repercussions or consequences for one's actions -- or even if he was bolder -- Wooyoung would've stood up and thrown his coffee all over those designers right then. But he <em>can't</em>, and so he sits there, hand tightly clenched around his fork and appetite diminished.</p><p>He knows it isn't any of his business, but he can't stop himself from seething in his seat. These people are just <em>strangers</em>; they know nothing of how kind, of how playful, soft and <em>endearing</em> San is, instead choosing to badmouth him as soon as they get the chance.</p><p>It bothers Wooyoung more than it should've, because in the end, he'll have to leave, anyway.</p><p>In the end, he and Choi San will become what those designers are to him. <em>St</em><em>rangers</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. jung wooyoung gets personal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em> <b>« there's a lot of things i want</b> </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> <b>just didn't know you were</b> </em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em> <b>going to be one of them »</b> </em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em> <span class="u">13 things Jung Wooyoung wants for his 13th birthday !</span> </em>
    <br/>
    <em>(⭐ = like)</em>
    <br/>
    <em>(⭐⭐ = really like)</em>
    <br/>
    <em>(⭐⭐⭐ = love)</em>
    <br/>
    <em>(❤️ = really really love )</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>1. Want to have the best birthday ever (I want it so bad) ⭐⭐⭐</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>2. Want to look different/better ⭐⭐⭐</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>3. Want my parents to like me ⭐⭐</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>4. Want to go to the movies to watch my favourite movie ! ⭐⭐</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>5. Want to have a birthday breakfast from mom</em>
    <br/>
    <em>⭐⭐⭐</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>6. Want cute gifts !! ⭐⭐⭐</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>7. Want my parents to love each other again ⭐⭐</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>8. Want to have an awesome birthday party ! ⭐⭐⭐❤️</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>9. Want to be popular ⭐⭐</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>10. Want to have the best time in highschool ⭐⭐⭐</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>11. Want to have a lot of friends ! ⭐⭐⭐❤️</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>12. Want to be rich so I can do whatever I want ⭐⭐⭐</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>13. I want to be happy ⭐⭐⭐⭐❤️❤️⭐</em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>Wooyoung doesn't know why he dreams of the stupid wishlist he made a week before his thirteenth birthday, when all that resulted from it was his parents having a huge fight and him spending the rest of the day hating himself.</p><p>It's now been nine years -- so his memory of that day is a bit rough around the edges -- but he <em>does</em> know he never attempted making another wishlist after that.</p><p>Wooyoung hears a rustle just beside him, and he frowns, his eyes squinting open. He's met with darkness at first, and then a silhouette that lingers at his peripheral vision.</p><p>"<em>Happy birthday Mr Nag Nag!</em>"</p><p>Wooyoung shuffles to the back so quickly his head hits the wall. He groans out loud at the flaring pain, and it feels much worse when he hears a familiar giggle.</p><p>"Oh my god. You okay?" <em>San's</em> voice asks, a trace of amusement in it, but Wooyoung doesn't respond. Only clamps his hands over his face, feeling nothing less than shitty at San witnessing him in such a horrid state.</p><p>"Are you alright?" San tries again. This time, he sounds serious.</p><p>Wooyoung keeps his palms over his face, and shakes his head. "...No. I...why are you here?" He cringes at how hoarse his voice is.</p><p>"It's your birthday," San deadpans. There's a pause. "...<em>Oh</em>. I'm so sorry. I'll turn around and -- sorry."</p><p>Wooyoung drops his hands to see that San did as he said he would, and then searches for his brown contacts as quickly as his tired limbs can allow.</p><p>When he darkens his left eye, he blinks, and adjusts himself to the dim lighting of his bedroom. "Thank you..."</p><p>San turns, and Wooyoung <em>gapes</em>.</p><p>The older man's dressed in what classifies as a long shirt, and it's sunshine yellow, matching with his knee-high socks that have little hearts on them. In his hands is a plate with a frosted cupcake that's got a cherry on top, as well as one candle in the middle that casts a faint orange glow over the room.</p><p>San grins not-so-innocently, while Wooyoung looks away again. "Good morning."</p><p>"Good morning to you too." Wooyoung plays with his fingers, trying <em>really</em> hard to ignore the way San's dressed.</p><p>"You're twenty-two now," San continues, shifting closer to Wooyoung on the bed. He holds up the plate, a twinkle in his eye. "Happy birthday. Hope all your wishes come true!"</p><p>Wooyoung exhales a breath, loosening his muscles when he realizes how stiff he's become. "T-Thanks." He clears his throat, goosebumps lining his arms at the smell of San's floral perfume. "And thanks for the, um, cupcake."</p><p>San laughs. "You're welcome. But you know..." he leans in, not too much that it disregards Wooyoung's personal space, but it still sends his heart pounding. "When you're being offered a cake -- <em>or a cupcake</em> -- for your birthday, you really should make a wish and blow on the candle."</p><p>"Oh -- right," Wooyoung stutters. He huffs and extinguishes the candle's meagre flame before a wish can enter his head, and then there's silence for a couple of seconds.</p><p>"Well... That was anti-climactic," San says.</p><p>"Yeah. Sorry." Wooyoung stares right at him before he can stop himself. His chest constricts at the warmth in San's eyes, and how shiny his lips are. Lip balm? Lipgloss? Wooyoung's gaze falls when he realizes he's staring at the older's <em>mouth</em>.</p><p>San pulls off the sparkly candle on the cupcake, then passes the plate to him. "Eat it. I made it myself. You like chocolate, right?"</p><p>"I...I do," Wooyoung nods, raking his fingers down his unruly locks. Embarrassment washes over him because San <em>saw</em> him like this, even though he knows it doesn't matter anymore.</p><p>He takes the cupcake, chewing on the cherry first. He slows down as soon as he notices San's unrelenting stare. "...What are you doing?"</p><p>"I wanna know what you think of the cupcakeee," San replies. "So <em>hurry </em><em>uuupp</em>."</p><p>"Okay okay, fine." Wooyoung bites into the chocolate cupcake -- or what's <em>supposed</em> to be a chocolate cupcake, and feels his heart stop. And it's not because he's utterly <em>wowed</em> by the delicious, scrumptious flavour of the cupcake, but because this is genuinely the most <em>disgusting</em> and revolting cupcake he's ever tasted. Ever.</p><p>His eyes grow large due to shock (and horror), but he forces the bite he took down his throat, fighting the insane urge to hurl.</p><p>San expectantly stares at him, eyes bright with anticipation. "How is it?"</p><p><em>Goddamn horrible</em>. <em>Tastes like absolute garbage what the fuck</em>. "It's good."</p><p>"Really?"</p><p>Wooyoung quickly nods. "Yeah." <em>Gordon Ramsay would faint if he ever tasted this crap</em>.</p><p>"That's good!" San exclaims with a loud sigh of relief, and claps a little. "I was honestly <em>so worried</em> it wouldn't turn out great. I bet you didn't know, but this is my first time ever making a cupcake."</p><p>"Oh really." Wooyoung attempts another bite. His throat internally <em>screams</em>, but he still swallows down the hellish concoction San calls a cupcake. He has no idea why he's lying about the taste to make the older man feel better, but he can't stop. Not when San probably woke up early to make it for him.</p><p>"You must really like it, huh?" San comments, his airy laughter ringing in Wooyoung's ears and accelerating his heartbeat, which he <em>hates</em>.</p><p>"Mhm,"  Wooyoung nods, sending silent prayers to his stomach. "It's -- it's amazing." <em>This cupcake can cause a zombie apocalypse. This cupcake can start a global pandemic</em>.</p><p>San eyes the half-finished 'chocolate' cupcake, and then a small smile flits over his features. He scoots towards Wooyoung. "...Can <em>I</em> try?"</p><p>"<em>What</em>?" Wooyoung dumbly blurts.</p><p>"The cupcake." San's voice is lowered and husky, alternating between staring into Wooyoung's eyes and the cupcake. "I wanna try it too. Want you to feed me -- "</p><p>Wooyoung shoves the rest of the cake into his mouth with such speed he nearly chokes on it. His stomach twists and turns in protest. <em>Fuck, this is fucking horrible</em>.</p><p>San raises his eyebrows in confusion, and then realization flutters in. "...Oh my god."</p><p>"...What?" Wooyoung questions through a mouthful of iced <em>death</em>.</p><p>"You like my cupcake <em>this</em> much," San squeals, slapping Wooyoung on his thigh, <em>squeezing</em> it. "I think you'll like the other ones I made."</p><p>Wooyoung's mouth drops. "O-Other ones?"</p><p>"Yeah." San's hand still lingers on the younger's thigh, his touch burning through his skin. "I made like, about four more. All with different flavours too! I <em>know</em> you'll love them."</p><p><em>Oh fuck</em>. Wooyoung feels like he's going to die.</p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung makes it to his Media class on time, still wincing at the disgusting aftertaste of the cupcakes San made for him this morning, all of them similar variations of<em> outrageously</em> <em>bad</em>.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p><em>You did this to yourself</em>, Wooyoung's mind berates as he rushes to find one of the seats located at the back. <em>If only you were more honest, you wouldn't have to eat the rest of them</em>.</p>
</div><p><br/>But Wooyoung's always had a problem voicing out his thoughts when he needs to the most. He'd never said a word to defend himself against his father's verbal attacks at his weight, never stepped in to show his mother enough was enough when she wouldn't stop insulting him for just breathing and being alive. He allowed people to walk over him and say whatever they they wanted about him all these years, so why does he suddenly expect himself to change now?</p><p>So when Mrs Nam brings up the topic about how news headlines can influence public opinion -- by using none other than some news article written about the CEO of Choi's Highlight's return to his company just two days ago -- Wooyoung stays still in his seat, internally <em>bursting</em> with rage at the heated debate that follows between the rest of the other students.</p><p>Of course, Wooyoung doesn't say much nor does he add anything of value to the discussion, not when he's been taught from a very young age that his thoughts and emotions don't matter. But he can't stop himself from fuming on the inside when he hears the multiple speculations coming from the students' mouths.</p><p>The anger he feels grows when Mrs Nam does <em>nothing</em> to stop the lies, probably happy that for once a bunch of people are actually participating in her bullshit course.</p><p><em>You don't know him. None of you do.</em> Wooyoung wants to scream this at the top of his lungs, but he can't, because his one and only connection to Choi San is supposed to be a secret. <em>You people don't know what he's really like</em>.</p><p><em>And you do?</em> A small voice at the back of Wooyoung's head taunts right then. He deflates, his mood ruined for the entire class.</p><p>He never gets out of his funk even when he's done with his classes for the day, and as he gets driven home by Mr Kim, he keeps thinking about his Media class and what those students said about San.</p><p>Wooyoung exhales deeply as soon as he enters the house, intending on just retreating to his room for the rest of the day. Maybe then the tightness in his chest would cease, maybe then he'd stop feeling so <em>guilty</em> for staying silent.</p><p><em>San doesn't -- and won't know anything, so stop thinking about it</em>. He rubs the back of his hair, only to stop at what he sees next.</p><p>On the marble floors lies a paper arrow. It's large, and colourful, and on it reads <b>GO TO YOUR ROOM</b> in huge, neat hangul.</p><p>Wooyoung's hand clenches tighter around his bag. "San...?" He says out loud, warmth travelling to his cheeks.</p><p>He hurries down the hall to where his bedroom his located, too eager for whatever's in store for him to feel embarrassed or childish about his actions.</p><p>Stumbling inside the spacious room, he spots something rectangular wrapped in glittering purple paper splayed across the fuzzy carpet, and drops his bag, heading over to it. It takes him a moment to realize how big it is, its length more than half of his life-sized mirror.</p><p><em>What is this?</em> Wooyoung kneels, tugging off the red ribbons adorning the surface of the 'gift' as gently as he can. His heart's beating erratically, feeling too enormous for his chest as a swarm of emotions overwhelm him right then.</p><p>Eventually, a childlike sort of impatience grips him, and then he's ripping apart the iridescent wrapping to discover what's underneath.</p><p>"...Oh my god," Wooyoung covers his mouth and laughs. In front of him, on a portrait of sorts, is <em>San</em> <em>himself</em> dressed like a British aristocrat with the white powdered wig and all. He's got a goofy ass grin on his face, sitting on a freaking magenta coloured unicorn as they pose in a field of flowers that stretches out into the horizon.</p><p>What the fuck.</p><p>Wooyoung laughs again, and this time it's loud and high-pitched, but he can't find it in him to stop because he's just <em>so</em> entertained and <em>disturbed</em>. What even?</p><p>He yanks off the note plastered at the corner, steadying himself so he won't fall over due to how much he's laughing.</p><p><em>'</em><em>Hang this in your room so you'll never get bored again. I paid a lot for this</em>.</p><p>
  <em>Xoxo, San hyung.</em>
</p><p><em>p.s, as soon as you read this, please step out of your room for another surprise</em>.'</p><p><em>It isn't a surprise anymore if you tell me I'm getting one, idiot</em>, Wooyoung thinks, but he's grinning. A lot. Like, so much he fears his face will split in half.</p><p>He does as San asks, but he's still shell-shocked when he catches sight of San loitering in the middle of the corridor, donned in nothing but a silky black robe that highlights the fairness of his skin, and holding something Wooyoung can't recognize in his hands.</p><p>"Hey," Wooyoung breaks the silence, gulping when San shortens the distance between them in record timing. Up close, Wooyoung finds it even <em>harder</em> to maintain eye contact with the man. "Thanks for the...gift? It was -- well, it was <em>something</em>."</p><p>San chuckles, a low sound that has Wooyoung's insides spinning. "I look quite <em>amazing</em> in that portrait, if I can say so myself."</p><p>"I feel like putting it up on the wall's gonna give me nightmares."</p><p>San playfully shoves Wooyoung's shoulder. "Oh stop it. I know you love it." He grins broadly at the younger. "I can see your <em>smile</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung clears his throat, pretending to act all nonchalant. He juts his chin at what San's hiding behind him. "What's that?"</p><p>San pulls out two <em>flight tickets</em>, smiling coyly.</p><p>"No way," Wooyoung gasps, taking a step back. "<em>No way</em>. Oh my god, <em>why</em>?"</p><p>"'Cause I want to take you somewhere new for your birthday?" San answers as if it's obvious. "Visiting another country alone <em>sucks</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung blinks, finding it difficult to calm his thoughts. "Thank you, <em>so much</em>, but I -- I can't accept this."</p><p>San's expression falls. "Why?"</p><p>Wooyoung runs his hands down his hair, inhaling shallow breaths. "I've got exams coming up, and I -- I've got to study and -- and you're <em>spending money</em> on me again -- "</p><p>"It's only for this weekend, won't be for a month or whatever you're thinking of," San swiftly explains. He's nearer now, right hand clasped on Wooyoung's shoulder. It drags him back to reality, <em>grounds</em> him. "And you can always study in Jeju island."</p><p>"I'm going to Jeju island?" Wooyoung <em>freaks</em> out even more. All of a sudden, he's his annoying and lonely thirteen-year-old self again, wishing he could go to Jeju Island with his parents at least <em>once</em> in his lifetime.</p><p>"<em>We're</em> going to Jeju island," San cheers. Then, he's stretching his arms out. "Are you happy? Or are you <em>happy</em>?"</p><p>"You're so irritating," Wooyoung mumbles, but he reduces the space between him and San to nothing, allowing the older man to pull him close into a bone-crushing, <em>consoling</em> hug.</p><p>This isn't the first time Wooyoung's hugging San, but this time...this time it feels a bit <em>different</em>. San smells so <em>nice</em>, like fresh flowers in Spring, and some other alluring scent. Wooyoung doesn't feel like letting him go. Not yet.</p><p>San pets his hair, cautiously at first, but then his fingers are stroking it, and it feels too good that Wooyoung doesn't complain.</p><p>"Why are we hugging?" Wooyoung asks, voice muffled on San's wide chest.</p><p>"<em>No idea</em>. But I like it," San laughs. His hand inches down Wooyoung's face, before cupping his cheek. He laughs even harder at the way Wooyoung stiffens under his touch. "Are you okay?"</p><p>Wooyoung's entire face feels like he just inhaled a mouthful of lava. He can't pay attention to anything other than San's freaking <em>hand</em> on his cheek. "Yeah. I, uhm, I'm okay."</p><p>"You're so cute."</p><p>Wooyoung looks at San, and the man seems just as taken aback by his words as he himself is.</p><p>"I mean, you have cute reactions to everything," San states, dropping his arms as he retreats. "And that's...cute."</p><p>"Oh." Wooyoung's throat is so fucking dry, he wants to punch himself unconscious. <em>That doesn't even make any sense</em>.</p><p>Luckily, San prevents the awkward atmosphere from extending longer than it needs to.</p><p>"Come on," he says, "let's head to the sitting room and go watch a movie or something."</p><p>Wooyoung's dumb wishlist appears in his head again. "A movie?"</p><p>"Yeah," San nods, eyes sparkling just as much as his robe. "Since you're the birthday boy, we'll watch whatever you pick."</p><p>An idea pops into Wooyoung's head. He faces San, and cocks his head to the side with a grin. "Got any alcohol?"</p><p>San's eyes darken with challenge. "Pfft. You act as if I don't have a whole wine cellar."</p><p>Wooyoung's brows raise. "You do?"</p><p>"Yeah. But I don't drink much, just so you know." San crosses his arms over his chest. "<em>But</em>, I'm willing to change that today just for you."</p><p>"Okay, okay, whatever. Where's the wine?"</p><p>"Wow, so impatient are we?"</p><p>Wooyoung giggles. "I was just kidding, by the way. I'm actually <em>really</em> grateful you're doing all this for me. Thanks a lot, hyung."</p><p>San's smile is loving when he waves him off. <em>Shy. He's shy</em>. "It's no biggie. Hey, what movie should we watch? Y'know, before it gets super late and all?"</p><p>Wooyoung heats up some frozen pizza, gathers all the wines that interest him from San's impressive cellar, and makes them watch <em>The Greatest Showman</em> when he learns San's never watched the musical.</p><p>"Okay. So it's confirmed; you really are a sap for romance," San concludes as the movie starts. They're both huddled up on the couch in blankets that fight off the cold, the pizza and bottles of wine on the table before them.</p><p>"Shh," Wooyoung responds, making jazz hands. "You've gotta pay attention, dude."</p><p>A part of Wooyoung's nervous, mostly because <em>The Greatest Showman's</em> one of his favourite movies (he knows every song and every scene by heart now), and he isn't sure if San's going to end up liking it.</p><p>As the movie progresses, Wooyoung alternates between eating pizza, drinking, and watching San's reaction to the scenes.</p><p>And San, he's completely <em>immersed</em>, following every single word the characters say, even bopping his head to the songs they sing sometimes. Wooyoung often finds himself staring at how the musical plays out on his dark, reflective eyes, than on the TV itself.</p><p>Wooyoung forgets about the pizza at one point, and he <em>swears</em> he's starting to get super drunk because <em>Rewrite the Stars</em> shouldn't feel <em>this</em> emotional.</p><p>But Wooyoung continues to drink anyway, liking the heat that cloaks his chest with each sip he takes. San is warm too, arms rubbing against Wooyoung's every once in a while. It's all sensory overload.</p><p>"So," he begins when the movie ends, voice just a little slurred. "How was it?"</p><p>San takes a bite of pizza. It's then Wooyoung realizes the man didn't eat or drink much at all during the entire movie's duration. "It was nice."</p><p>"Nice?"</p><p>"Yeah." San chuckles. "It was...beautiful."</p><p>Wooyoung chews his lip, relieved. "You think it's beautiful."</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"Well..." Wooyoung's breath hitches at San's hand on his knee. "What song..." He blinks, mind a little hazy. "What song's your favourite?"</p><p>"I like <em>Never Enough </em>a lot," San answers, and somehow, Wooyoung expected him to say that. He remembers that scene as well, when Jenny Lind took the stage and sang her heart out, and he especially can remember the way San looked at that moment, this content, gentle smile on his lips. And how --</p><p>"I also really like the song at the beginning. A<em> Million Dreams</em>, is it? It's nice, reminds me of my parents. What's <em>your</em> favourite song?"</p><p>"I like, uh," Wooyoung rubs his forehead, trying to search through his cluttered thoughts for the right words to say. San's laughter reverberates in his ears, caressing his heart. "<em>This Is Me</em>. Yeah, that one."</p><p>"That one's cool too." San watches him, and then, "Are you alright?"</p><p>"You said <em>A Million Dreams</em> reminds you of your parents. Why?" If San's bothered by the way Wooyoung avoids the subject, he doesn't let it show.</p><p>He chuckles, but his eyes are hooded, serious. "Dad didn't come from a rich family, but...but mom still supported him until he became successful..."</p><p>Wooyoung fails to notice how San's smile falters. He pouts instead. "My parents aren't."</p><p>"I know."</p><p>"<em>Meanie</em>." Wooyoung takes a swig of wine.</p><p>"I didn't mean to be rude. At least they're helping you out, right?"</p><p>"<em>As if.</em> They don't help me with shit. I got into college by myself, with <em>my</em> money, but..." Wooyoung leans into the couch, "it's so hard these days. <em>Everything</em> is."</p><p>"...Maybe you should quit. I...I see how you look every morning when you're ready to go to your classes, like you'd rather do something else. You don't look happy anytime you talk about school, Wooyoung," San says. His unwavering stare makes Wooyoung feel more lightheaded.</p><p>"You should quit being a CEO too," Wooyoung states. He's so intoxicated he has no problem staring into San's eyes. "You don't look like you like it."</p><p>San's face is blank. "It's complicated."</p><p>"Just like my whole <em>life</em> is complicated." Wooyoung opens a new bottle of wine. "Like, I wish I could <em>un</em>-complicate it, but it's too complicated to get un-complicated, ya know? Nothing ever goes my way."</p><p>"I'm here."</p><p>Wooyoung pauses, then shrugs. "And?"</p><p>San looks nervous. "I'm here for you."</p><p>"We hardly know each other."</p><p>"I know," San licks his lips, his Adam's apple bobbing, "but I want to know more about you..."</p><p>Something like electric sparks ignite Wooyoung's skin when he sees San lean in, or <em>maybe</em> he's just imagining it? He thinks he is, but San's hands framing his cheeks certainly feel real.</p><p>A smile Wooyoung's sure looks <em>pretty</em> crazy stretches over his face at that moment. "Why are you looking at me like that?"</p><p>"Like what?"</p><p>"Like you wanna kiss me so bad."</p><p>San swallows, but doesn't say anything. He shifts <em>closer</em>, only to get stopped by Wooyoung taking yet another large sip of wine.</p><p>"I think you're drinking too much," San says, grabbing the bottle out of Wooyoung's hands.</p><p>"No, no." Wooyoung shakes his head, whining like a kid. "I want more, more, more! I wanna drink and drink until I <em>die</em>!"</p><p>"Oh gosh. No more drinks for you tonight, Nag Nag." San takes all the bottles that aren't empty and brings them to the kitchen while the younger male keeps groaning.</p><p>"I want to drink!" Wooyoung yells when San returns, but doesn't complain when the older man rests his head on his lap.</p><p>"I know something <em>even</em> better than drinking, baby," San whispers, fingers in Wooyoung's hair.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"A song." San hums the melody of <em>Never Enough</em>, then sings it out loud, and for a while, Wooyoung listens, realizing the man doesn't sound half bad.</p><p>"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Wooyoung comments, smiling when San laughs. "Now you're just boasting about how good you are at singing, and how better you are in comparison to me."</p><p>San's laughter fades. "...How can you say that?"</p><p>"You're goodlooking and rich; I'm not," Wooyoung replies.</p><p>"You <em>are</em> goodlooking. You may not be rich, but you're so much more than that -- "</p><p>"I'm not." Wooyoung's voice sounds so harsh, so <em>bitter</em> it startles him. "I'm <em>nothing</em> compared to you."</p><p>San's jaw clenches. "That's not true."</p><p>"It is, you don't need to lie. I'm never enough, just like your favourite song from that movie," Wooyoung explains. He isn't even sure he's making sense anymore, but that's how it always is whenever he's caught up in his feelings. His thoughts start racing too quickly for his lips to catch up. "And that's okay, I guess. I'm not special, just like a majority of people on this earth, and that -- that is <em>fine</em>. I'm okay with being a loser."</p><p>"You are <em>not</em> a loser."</p><p>"You said it yourself, though. You said I'm a loser, and I <em>am</em>, so I'm not mad at you."</p><p>"Goddammit, Wooyoung." There's something in San's tone he's never heard before, and when the man brings him to his chest he realizes he's crying. They both are. "I'm the biggest idiot in the universe, and calling you a loser is the greatest lie I've ever told. I'm so sorry."</p><p>Wooyoung sniffs, burying his head in San's shoulder as sobs tumble out his lips. He's such a wreck.</p><p>"You're beautiful. Every part of you, including your eyes."</p><p>"My eyes?"</p><p>"Yeah. Prettiest eyes I've ever seen," San says, rubbing his back.</p><p>"T-That's a lie."</p><p>"I'm not lying, I swear. I...I think they're unique, something you deserve to be proud of," San answers.</p><p>Wooyoung wipes off the tears staining his cheeks. "I don't think I believe you. You're...you're literally perfect, and I'm <em>me</em>."</p><p>"Thanks for the compliment. But I'm not perfect, not even close. First, I snore a lot. Secondly, I'm literally so <em>messy</em> when I'm not in little space. Thirdly, I snore a lot -- "</p><p>Wooyoung snorts at the repetition, but his tears and the alcohol in his veins make it come out all garbled.</p><p>"Fourthly, I'm not so satisfied with my body."</p><p>"Come on," Wooyoung rolls his eyes. "I bet you have abs."</p><p>San stares down at the younger man, eyes crinkled and shimmering. "I love my six-pack."</p><p>"<em>Of course</em>."</p><p>San giggles, and so does Wooyoung. "But, my body isn't perfect, but that's okay, because no human is perfect. We all have something we're insecure of, but at least I'm here for you, and you for me, and we can get through it, together."</p><p>"I'm drunk, and when I'm drunk, I cry," Wooyoung says. "And I'm an ugly crier."</p><p>"You're <em>far</em> from an ugly crier."</p><p>"Stop..."</p><p>"You've got a smile that puts the sun to shame, and when you laugh, it motivates me. And -- and when I look at you sometimes, I feel like I can do <em>anything</em>. You make my heart beat quickly too, sometimes, and I -- Wooyoung?"</p><p>Wooyoung fell asleep.</p><p>"...Aish," San smiles softly at the sight of Wooyoung sleeping in his arms, fists clutching the fabric of his robe, but then frowns. "He forgot to take out his contacts."</p><p>After attempting to wake Wooyoung all to no avail, he painstakingly removes that brown contact covering the younger's eye, trying not to <em>freak out</em>. Contacts seriously scare him.</p><p>San feels his breath leave him for the nth time that night when vibrant sea green greets his vision. He doesn't think he can ever get tired of seeing Wooyoung's eyes.</p><p>Wooyoung suddenly punches his chest. "Stupid crab, trying to pinch me."</p><p>San's heart races. <em>You may think you aren't enough, but to me, you're starting to be. I'm beginning to feel enough too, with you</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. choi san is a problem</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>tw: anxiety attack, slight mature content(</em>
  <em>??)</em>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>
      <em>« the thing about you</em>
    </b><br/>
<b>
      <em>is that you're beginning to be a little too good to be true »</em>
    </b>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>
After Wooyoung finishes his classes on Thursday, he enters a salon and gets a haircut.</p><p>Doesn't really know why, but maybe it has something to do with the way his bangs have been falling into his eyes lately, obstructing some of his vision. And it's weird, because only a few months ago he'd decided to let his hair grow as long as he'd allow it, because he couldn't stand to look at his face in the mirror.</p><p>Now, his hair's a typical length for the average Korean male, bangs just barely grazing his eyelids, but this time, the barber quiffs the right side away from his face, exposing half of his normally hidden forehead. And this time, Wooyoung doesn't mind it too much.</p><p>He enters San's house at around quarter past five, looking through the special jjigae recipe Mingi had sent to him on his phone when he catches the older man in the sitting room, chuckling brightly at something with his back facing Wooyoung.</p><p>"Yeah, <em>yeah</em>. Nothing's gonna happen, Joongie. Wooyoung is going to be with me anyways. And no -- it won't affect <em>anything</em> because it's gonna be a weekend vacay. Like I said earlier, I'll be careful -- <em>No</em>." San runs a hand down his long hair, shoulders tensing. "No, why would you say that? Nothing's going on between u -- " he turns, abruptly halting his words just as he notices Wooyoung.</p><p>A smile spreads across San's face, while the younger's ears warm up. "You look <em>really</em> good. Wait -- no I wasn't <em>talking</em> about you, Hongjoongie. I can't even <em>see</em> you. Yeah, Wooyoung's back." San's eyes trail after Wooyoung while the younger man places his bag on the couch. "Joongie says hi."</p><p>"Hi, Hongjoong hyung," Wooyoung replies, a little stiff. He hears laughter on the other line, and his ears burn even more.</p><p>"<em>Good day, Wooyoung. Heard you're leaving for Jeju island tomorrow. Hope you two have fun</em>," Hongjoong speaks, and for some reason that makes Wooyoung all the more flustered since the older man is in on it now.</p><p>"We will, I guess."</p><p>"You heard that, right? So no need to worry, and get some rest will you? Talk to you later. Bye, love you," San says into the phone, and then he's <em>blowing a kiss </em>before ending the call.</p><p><em>Love you? Kiss?</em> Wooyoung's mind spins with these thoughts until he feels a little dizzy. "Are you both -- " he stops, wanting to slam his head against the wall. He's so <em>stupid</em>, because what kind of nonsense question was he about to ask?</p><p>Unfortunately, San hears him. "Are we what?"</p><p>Wooyoung clears his throat, shuffles his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "A-Are you two dating?"</p><p>San's expression blanks, but then he's grinning wide, surprising Wooyoung. "Oh my god -- we <em>are</em>."</p><p>Something heavy pierces Wooyoung's chest, so sudden he feels like he'll tumble over. "<em>You are</em>?"</p><p>"Yeah," San shrugs, rubbing the sleeves of his form-fitting black sweater. "Well, we're planning to get married too. We also already have two kids and they're in Harvard, studying to become worldwide famous Kpop idols."</p><p>Wooyoung blinks. "You're joking."</p><p>San laughs, hand landing on Wooyoung's bicep. "<em>Of course</em> I am. Why would I date someone who's like a brother to me? If he were another guy, then yes, <em>maybe</em>. But then again, I'm <em>so not</em> interested in Hongjoong."</p><p>"Another guy?" Wooyoung blurts, feeling like he's experiencing one whiplash after another. <em>Is he into guys? Is he gay?</em></p><p>San tucks some of his hair behind his ear, his warm eyes observing Wooyoung's face. "Yeah? I like men."</p><p>Wooyoung chokes on air, and the older man is behind him in an instant, palm rubbing his back. Wooyoung starts to cough.</p><p>"Are you okay?"</p><p>"<em>Yeah</em>," Wooyoung forces out. Before, he'd had his doubts even when he saw the way San <em>looked</em> at him at times, but now, there was no denying it. Now, he's crudely aware of the older's chest pressed against his back, of his hands supporting his arms. The contact sends his heart racing, so much so that he feels a little sick.</p><p>"Is that the recipe Mingi sent you on your phone?" San asks, the topic on his sexuality already done and dealt with for him. His hands are still on Wooyoung's arms though, his rich floral cologne consuming Wooyoung's senses. "Maybe <em>I</em> should take over dinner tonight. You should rest."</p><p>Those cupcakes San made for him on Monday flash across Wooyoung's mind. "No!" He exclaims, then lowers his voice. "No. I mean -- I'll take care of it. I'm <em>fine</em>. Nothing's wrong with me."</p><p>
  <em>Nothing's</em>
  <em> wrong with me, but why is my heart beating so quickly? </em>
</p><p>"What are you making?" San, once again, looks unbothered. Instead, there's an excited smile on his face as Wooyoung turns around.</p><p>"Jjigae." Wooyoung's throat is dry.</p><p>"I love jjigae!" San beams and claps, his dimples appearing. <em>Pretty as a flower.</em> "Think you can do it some justice?"</p><p>"I'll <em>try</em>," Wooyoung answers, pretending he doesn't notice the way San hangs on to every last word he says. "But first, I need to go take a shower. Just got my hair cut, after all."</p><p>"How could I forget?" San's voice grows soft, admiring Wooyoung's new look. "It really suits you, you know? I thought your previous hair also suited you, but this..."</p><p>Wooyoung's chest tightens. "This what?"</p><p>"You look great." But San looks like he wants to say more, <em>so much more</em>.</p><p>"Uh, thanks." Wooyoung's never been good at taking compliments, and since Monday night every time San complimented him, he got embarrassed, flushing because of them.</p><p>"You're welcome."</p><p>Wooyoung thinks over his and San's conversation in the shower, over and over again until he gets tired of it.</p><p><em>He likes guys, get over it,</em> A voice in his head argues, but the thing is -- he <em>can't</em>. Not when he starts to worry about the possibility of San actually...<em>liking</em> him, even if it seems totally bogus.</p><p><em>Just because he's gay doesn't mean he'll like every man he sees. Just because he's gay doesn't mean he'll like you</em>. Wooyoung wants to stop thinking so much about this, because it's driving him <em>nuts</em>.</p><p><em>How would San like him</em>, he tries to reason, <em>when he probably has access to the hottest guys ever who are actually on par with his status</em>?</p><p>It's weird and borderline creepy to be thinking this way about a CEO who he's living with, but Wooyoung can't help himself. His arguments are starting to make sense too. There's no <em>way</em> San can feel something for him, not when he's poor and a nobody, and doesn't even have the looks to match.</p><p>The thought's like a punch to the gut, one that has him gasping for air and leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. But it's the cold, hard truth. And he <em>shouldn't</em> care anyway, because he doesn't like San like that, just like how the man feels <em>nothing</em> for him.</p><p>Wooyoung leaves the shower, and a twisted, masochistic part of him places him in front of the misty bathroom mirror, holding him down until the fog fades.</p><p>His different coloured eyes look back at him through the mirror, and all he feels at that moment is disgust and annoyance.</p><p>The man staring at him doesn't <em>feel</em> like him, with his dark damp locks, glowing turquoise eye and skinny frame, but he <em>is</em>. And that's the most frustrating and disheartening part. This is <em>him</em>, and no one else.</p><p>And he's still as disappointing as ever.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung enters the kitchen, hair styled as before as he switches on his phone to refresh his memory on the recipe Mingi sent him.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Lately, he and the older man have been talking. Not much, but just enough to grow more comfortable with each other, and even share a couple jokes. Wooyoung discovered Mingi could be quite hilarious when he wanted to be, often leaving him cackling at the end of their conversations.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung's about to click off the screen when he hears distant footsteps approach.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Hey, gorgeous. Mind if I get a second with you?"</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung ignores San, but he had to bite his lip to stop his smile from growing. </p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Stars are jealous of you. Of course they are, because they don't shine as brightly as you do."</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"What the fuck?" Wooyoung spins around then, breaking into laughter. It takes him a second before he notices the phone held in San's hands, the camera facing him. <em>Oh no</em>. "Wait -- San -- "</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>San shoves his phone into his pocket before Wooyoung can snatch it away, giggling like a toddler. </p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"No, San," Wooyoung begs. "Delete it."</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Why? You look seriously good in them," San answers. When his and Wooyoung's eyes meet, he giggles again. Wooyoung feels lightheaded at the sound. </p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"I <em>know</em> I look horrible," Wooyoung states. He stands in front of San, hands on his hips. "So for the love of god, give me the phone so I can delete those ugly pictures."</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>San stares at him the same way he did when Wooyoung began spilling his innermost thoughts that Monday. "You haven't even seen them. How can you call them that?"</p>
</div><p><br/>
"Because I <em>know</em> they are." Wooyoung doesn't like the look in San's eyes, as if he's <em>pitying</em> him just because he happens to dislike the way he looks. "And I want them <em>deleted</em>."</p><p>A few seconds pass with San staring into his eyes, and then, he sighs. "...Fine, I'll delete them. But not before I send them to you first. Then...<em>then</em> you'll know what I'm talking about when I say you're gorgeous. Whatever you choose to do to them afterwards is up to you."</p><p>Wooyoung's cheeks well up with warmth at the adjective San used to describe him. It'd been fine before, when it was under the context of a joke, but now, with how <em>genuinely</em> San said it, Wooyoung didn't know <em>how</em> to feel.</p><p>"Send them to me now," is what he chooses to reply with.</p><p>"<em>After dinner</em>," San cheekily responds as he waltzes into the kitchen, and Wooyoung follows after him, a frown on his face.</p><p>Despite all this, Wooyoung cooks up the jjigae and manages to finish it without setting the entire house on fire. He's once again reminded of how amazing Mingi's cooking abilities are when he sees -- <em>and smells</em> -- the result of his hard work.</p><p>"That smells <em>heavenly</em>," San says next to him, and Wooyoung has to slap him on the chest with his apron so he won't get too close to the stove. "Hey, can I taste?"</p><p>"<em>No</em>, hyung," Wooyoung commands.</p><p>San pouts. "Why?"</p><p>"Cause you always try to eat everything before it's ready."</p><p>"<em>I do not</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung says nothing as he begins to set the table, San soon joining him although his eyes never leave the broth.</p><p>"Thanks for doing this for me. Cooking, I mean," San utters after Wooyoung places the bowls of jjigae on the table. Wooyoung's taken aback by the sincerity in his tone. "Mingi, well, he's been the one in charge of the food for so long, I bet he got tired at some point." At this, San chuckles, but his eyes are...<em>sad</em>. "I hope it doesn't burden you. Please tell me if it does."</p><p>Wooyoung rubs his neck, a little overwhelmed under San's attentive gaze. "It -- it doesn't bother me. I like it, actually. I like...cooking." He clears his throat. "For me and you. <em>Us</em>."</p><p>San grins. "Us?"</p><p>"Yeah." Wooyoung's heartbeat goes crazy when San leans in, his hand clasping his.</p><p>"Come sit next to me for dinner."</p><p><em>You can take a seat anywhere you like, but not the ones closest to the head of the table. That's where San sits</em>. Wooyoung panics as Mingi's words stumble into his brain.</p><p>"Woo?"</p><p><em>I like men I like men I like men I like</em> --</p><p>"<em>Nope</em>," Wooyoung snips his thoughts in half with a high-pitched, <em>obviously</em> fake laugh. "No, it's fine. I will sit where I normally do for tonight, thanks."</p><p>"Come <em>on</em>," San whines, stomping on his feet like he's throwing a tantrum. "I want you to sit <em>with me</em>."</p><p>"The food will get cold." Wooyoung pulls out a seat for himself, trying not to feel an ounce of guilt when San makes his way over to <em>his</em> seat, shoulders hunched and lips pursed.</p><p>Luckily, San doesn't stay discouraged for long. Soon, he's <em>oohing</em> and <em>aahing</em> at the food Wooyoung prepared, unleashing compliments that are so unbelievably <em>corny</em> Wooyoung nearly spits out some soup at one point.</p><p>"Anytime I take a sip of this jjigae I feel like angels are singing to me," San says, before slurping some of it. He gestures at his ears. "Yep, I can hear them again."</p><p>"Maybe you're dying," Wooyoung jokes, staring down at his bowl. The stew reminds him of an active volcano, and he wonders how quickly <em>he</em> would die if he ever fell into one of them.</p><p>"If I die after this, it'll be worth it. At least I got to taste the jjigae Mighty Chef Jung Wooyoung made for us."</p><p>"You're so <em>lame</em>," Wooyoung snorts. "And weird too. I still get chills anytime I wake up and see that portrait of yourself you got me for my birthday."</p><p>"Those aren't chills, hon," San answers, smirking at him. "Face it: you're falling in love with me."</p><p>The harmless statement affects Wooyoung more than he'd like. His grip on his spoon tightens. "A-As if."</p><p>He spares San a quick glance, relieved to find the older man is too busy with his food to notice his reaction. He looks again, and sees San with his phone in hand.</p><p>Wooyoung bites his lip. "Hey, phones aren't -- "</p><p>"Allowed while you're eating," San finishes off, taking a sip from his drink. "I know, I know. Just..." He presses something on the screen, and immediately Wooyoung's phone vibrates.</p><p>Ignoring his own rule, Wooyoung quickly pulls out his phone to check the message.</p><p>- <b>mr choi</b><br/>
<em>[image attached]</em><br/>
<em>[image attached]</em></p><p>- <b>mr choi</b><br/>
<em>nothing other than 'breathtakingly beautiful' will suffice</em></p><p>Wooyoung looks up from his phone, and there San is, grinning broadly at him. "Hyung..."</p><p>"I know, I know. These pictures I took are glorious," San says, looking as smug as ever.</p><p>"I'm gonna kill you."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"They're <em>horrible</em>, what the hell?" Wooyoung gasps. He places the phone on the table, digging his face into his palms.</p><p>"Wooyoung..." San sounds immensely worried. His chair scrapes across the tiled floors, and he's making his way over. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have -- "</p><p>Wooyoung bawls into his hands, drawn out and overdramatic. "H-How could you take such amazing pictures of me? H-How <em>dare</em> you?"</p><p>San pauses. "...You're fake crying, aren't you?"</p><p>"<em>Ta-da</em>!" Wooyoung cheers, all jazz hands and wide, dazzling smiles. San just <em>stares</em> at him for a moment, but then his eyes fall on Wooyoung's phone.</p><p>"You saved me as '<em>Mr </em><em>Choi</em>'?" If Wooyoung didn't know better, he'd have assumed San was <em>offended</em>. But he isn't, right?</p><p>"Uh, yeah," Wooyoung nods. "Is that bad?"</p><p>San inhales, then exhales. His expression turns unreadable as he heads back to his seat. "Make me a new contact name, stat."</p><p>"Are you <em>serious</em>?"</p><p>"<em>Yes</em>, I am." San crosses his arms. "Or I'm not finishing the food."</p><p>Wooyoung scoffs, but San's change in demeanor bothered him. "That's got nothing to do with me."</p><p>"I know you hate seeing food wasted, and I know you hate seeing me sad," San says, exhaling a heavy sigh. "So, please, save me under a new name."</p><p>"It's <em>just</em> a contact name. It's not that deep." Wooyoung can't believe what he's hearing.</p><p>"<em>Exactly</em>. It's just a contact name, so there's no reason for you <em>not</em> to change it."</p><p>Are they having an argument? Wooyoung feels like they are. He huffs, because he has a feeling San won't relent anytime soon. "Fine. Whatever."</p><p>He erases 'Mr Choi' and types in something else.</p><p>"Let me see," San says, and Wooyoung walks to him and displays the screen. "<em>Mountain Mountain</em>? Really?"</p><p>San sounds <em>so done</em> with his choices it makes Wooyoung crack a chuckle.</p><p>"<em>What</em>? Your name's Choi San. Mountain, Mountain," Wooyoung explains, but his laughter dies in his throat just as San peers up at him with those intense eyes of his.</p><p>"It's an horrendous nickname," San begins coolly, "so you have to sit on my lap because it's your <em>punishment</em>." To drive his point home, he pats his thighs, a look Wooyoung's never seen him have before on his face. It's a cross between a cocky smirk, and <em>something else</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung's jaw nearly drops. "What?"</p><p>"Sit on my lap, Wooyoung-ah," San repeats. He sounds serious, but there's some humour in his voice too, like he doesn't <em>actually</em> expect the younger man to do it.</p><p>Wooyoung heads to his seat, but drags his food to where San is. The older raises his eyebrows in confusion.</p><p>Wooyoung swallows, unable to believe he's actually going to do this. He steps into San's space, the other man looking so <em>shocked</em> it's almost funny. Then, he sits on San's lap, adjusting himself a little.</p><p>"I'm not changing that contact name," he says.</p><p>San's lips part, but <em>nothing</em> comes out, gaze dark as he surveys Wooyoung up and down.</p><p>Wooyoung's heart races, even more so at the feel of San's chest on his back, the man's arms a heartbeat away from touching his.</p><p>"You...you should eat. Though you don't have much left," Wooyoung rambles helplessly. He feels so <em>breathless</em>, for no reason too. It's just <em>San</em>, and this is nothing but a joke.</p><p>San gulps. His face has grown pink. "Yeah. I, uh -- I will. Just gimme a sec."</p><p>Wooyoung's breath audibly hitches when San totally dissolves the distance between them, an arm secure around his waist as the other searches for his chopsticks.</p><p>"Shit," San curses, lips beside Wooyoung's ear. "Are you okay?"</p><p>Wooyoung busies himself with his food. "Mhm. Yeah, I am."</p><p>"Me too."</p><p>"Hm."</p><p>San is touchy, Wooyoung finds out. Or maybe he's only imagining San's arms around him, and the way the man watches him sometimes, and how their fingers brush ever so often. Wooyoung tries to convince himself that's the case, even when he knows it isn't.</p><p>Muscles a little sore and head a little empty, he relaxes into San.</p><p>The older man <em>jolts</em> in his seat, pushing his chair to the back without a second thought. "Can you -- can you <em>get off</em>? I mean -- " San looks frantic. "Like, stand up. Please."</p><p>"Oh -- okay." A bit embarrassed, Wooyoung obeys.</p><p>San leaps off his chair, ears flushed.</p><p>"Are you alright?" Wooyoung questions. This is so weird, the way San's acting. The man's even angled himself <em>away</em> from Wooyoung, his ears beet red.</p><p>"Yeah -- sorry. I gotta go. I'll be back shortly," San hurriedly explains, and then he's rushing off, hands on the belt loops of his pants.</p><p>Wooyoung makes a move to get his bowl, but <em>stills</em>. Realization sinks in like an anchor.</p><p><em>San got a boner</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung says nothing when San returns fifteen minutes later back to his usual self.</p><p>There's a glow to him as he bounds up to Wooyoung, smiling vivaciously at him. "You excited for tomorrow?"</p><p><em>I was, that is until I discovered you popped an erection just because I sat on you</em>. Wooyoung cringes at the thought. He <em>really</em> hates the voices in his head sometimes. "I -- yeah."</p><p>"Me too. I can't wait for all the activities we'll do <em>together</em>," San continues, bouncing with glee.</p><p>Wooyoung's mind wanders to horrible places. His fists clench. "Look, hyung, I -- I'm a bit sleepy right now."</p><p>"But it's just past eight."</p><p>"I want to go to sleep, sorry," Wooyoung says, grabbing his phone from the dining table. The thing that started this all in the first place. "See you tomorrow."</p><p>"...Oh." San's hair obstructs the look on his face, but his lips aren't upturned anymore. "Okay. See you tomorrow, then. Good morning in advance."</p><p>Wooyoung pauses, the guilt suffocating him. He moves in, and brings San into a hug. The man tenses in his hold at first, but soon his muscles loosen.</p><p>His arms slither around Wooyoung's waist, staying there even when Wooyoung pulls away to look him in the eye.</p><p>"Good morning in advance, hyung," Wooyoung repeats. He doesn't know why exactly he initiated the hug, and guessing by the stunned look on San's face, the man hadn't expected it too. "See you."</p><p>San touches his cheek, and Wooyoung's heart <em>explodes</em>. "Okay."</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>Wooyoung leaves then, and it's when he gets to his room that he falls into his bed and <em>freaks out</em> to his best capacity. <em>What the hell just happened back there?</em></p><p>He <em>screams</em> into his pillow, then spends an insane amount of time thinking about their last encounter, of San holding his cheek. What does it mean?</p><p>Tired of how sleepless he's become, he pulls out his notes and does some revision. In an hour, his eyelids are heavy, and he dozes off.</p><p>- <b>mountain mountain</b><br/>
<em>wake up to a pic of me a couple months ago with some new releases</em></p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>[image attached]</p>
</div><p>- <b>mountain mountain</b><br/>
<em>and p.s i didn't delete those pictures of you off my phone hahaha :p</em></p><p>- <b>mountain mountain</b><br/>
<em>sleep well </em><em>babe</em> 💜</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung can only stare as the moonlight pours itself over Choi San, his skin glowing like he's stardust. </p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>He whimpers, shallow breaths clinging to Wooyoung's lips as the younger leans in, their bare chests grazing.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"<em>I want you so bad</em>," San exhales, cupping Wooyoung's cheek. His eyes are like pools of black ink, glazed over with lust as Wooyoung's hands inch lower.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>He wants to feel <em>him</em>, Wooyoung realizes right then. San's thunderous heartbeat's already throbbing against his burning skin, but he wants <em>more</em>. Wants to know how San would feel <em>under him</em>, begging and pleading for his touch.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung licks a stripe down San's abdomen, drunk on the airy, lewd moans that leave the older's lips as a result. The man shivers beneath him, and then Wooyoung's lowering his head, right in between San's legs --</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung inhales a sharp gust of air as he sits upright on his bed. His head is spinning, heart thrashing as if he's been ripped in half, his pulse and guts the only thing remaining. </p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p><em>What the fuck?</em> Several thoughts like these zoom past his mind, each one igniting more horror in him than the last. <em>What did I just dream of</em>?</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung feels like running, but he doesn't know where. The room he's in is turning on its axis, and there's nothing he can hold on to. He's spiralling, <em>drowning</em> in self-loathing and despair when he just wants to <em>get away</em>.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>He throws off his duvet and pushes himself off his bed. His knees wobble, but he doesn't allow that to disrupt him. He needs to leave. He needs to --</p>
</div><p><br/>
Wooyoung collapses against the wall as soon as he scurries out of his room, palms uselessly fisting its surface as an attempt to find some balance.</p><p>Each breath he takes feels like lethal poison, especially when every time he closes he eyes, he sees San on the bed, hair splayed out, falling over his fair, freckled skin; his eyes reflecting the moon's shine; his lips, parted and pink and pretty, releasing those sinful moans that thicken the knots in Wooyoung's stomach. He feels like he's about to combust.</p><p>He runs out of the house, slipping into the backyard. It's vast, the grass and bushes neat and tidy. It's terribly cold too, frosting his lungs.</p><p>Up ahead lies the moon's crescent, and seeing it just worsens Wooyoung's shame. He feels like crying.</p><p>His arms are cold, marred with goosebumps, and he curses at his stupidity of not bringing something along to cover himself with. He bites his lip, rubbing them to at least fend off some of the cold. He isn't planning to go back inside anytime soon, that's for sure.</p><p>"Wooyoung?"</p><p>Wooyoung snaps his head up so quickly the base of his neck strains, but he's too distracted to nurture it.</p><p>San stands off to the side, donned in a loose shirt that exposes a bit of his collarbones, sweatpants, as well as a long baby pink cotton sweater.</p><p>His face displays concern as he strolls to where Wooyoung's standing. "You okay, Woo?"</p><p><em>Don't come closer</em>. Wooyoung gulps. "Y-Yeah."</p><p>"You sure? I mean, this is the first time I've seen you around here at this hour. And I've been here a <em>lot</em>," San says while looking at the stars in the sky. His eyes sparkle as much as they do.</p><p>Wooyoung hastily looks away when San turns to face him. "I'm f-fine."</p><p>"You're cold." San licks his lips. They glisten.</p><p>"<em>I'm not</em>." Wooyoung doesn't care how rude he sounds, not when the outline of San's lips have been engraved into the back of his eyelids.</p><p>The worry in San's eyes increase. "You're literally shivering. Here -- " he pulls off his sweater, Wooyoung's eyes bulging when his shirt hikes up, revealing a generous amount of his defined torso.</p><p>"I don't get cold easily, and I have <em>no idea</em> when you're heading back inside," San continues with a laugh, ruffling up his hair. "So you can have it in the meantime -- Wooyoung?"</p><p>"I don't need your sweater," Wooyoung spits. "I'm <em>okay</em>, I'm <em>not</em> cold, and I just need some fresh fucking air."</p><p>San's eyes darken. "Wooyoung, did something happen? Why are you suddenly being like this? Is there a problem?"</p><p>
  <em>Yes. You being here with me right now is the problem. You looking as good as you always fucking do, and how kind and funny you are, and how much you make me feel comfortable. You, you, you! Everything about you is the fucking problem!</em>
</p><p>"Nothing is," Wooyoung lies, fingernails digging into his palms. "I just...need some space right now."</p><p>"Something personal?"</p><p>"Yeah..."</p><p>San keeps quiet, and gives him the space Wooyoung desires. But yet still, longing blazes through his veins at the distance now set between them. Seeing the older so close, yet <em>so</em> <em>far</em>, has his mind in shambles.</p><p>Unable to calm down, he glances at San. San's looking at him too, and he looks at him the way he did at dinner, like he has a million things he wants to say but can't.</p><p>"Your eye," is what he settles on. "It looks..." He smiles, "it looks like the sea I used to visit a lot when I was younger. Very pretty, it was."</p><p>Wooyoung's too exhausted to care about hiding it now. "Really?"</p><p>"Yes," San grins, eyes trained on nowhere else but his face, "really."</p><p>Something like heartache, not quite as merciless but every bit as gut-wrenching, engulfs the entirety of Wooyoung at that very moment. "I don't know what to say."</p><p>"You don't need to. Sometimes..." San watches the night sky, but his lip quivers. All of a sudden, he doesn't look as confident anymore. "Sometimes, the best answer you can give is to say nothing at all."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. jung wooyoung makes a choice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <b>
      <em>« at the end of the day</em>
    </b>
    <br/>
    <em>
      <b>you're the one who stays</b>
    </em>
    <b>
      <em> »</em>
    </b>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung's still in disbelief over how <em>any</em> of this is real. But who can blame him? In just five hours, he's no longer in South Korea but instead in <em>Jeju</em><em> Island</em>, stepping into a private residence that looks more like a <em>ball room</em>, with none other than San right next to him, the man stepping into the house with ease.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Earth to Wooyoung?" San speaks, his and the younger's suitcase in his hold. The floor, just like rest of the interior, is polished, appearing like it's been speckled with gold dust. "I feel like you're buffering."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung can't really pay attention, not when he's reminded of the best gift he got as a kid from his parents. It was a snow globe, but it was the prettiest one he'd ever seen. He'd loved it so much, and kept with him in his room to stare at when times got rough. He can still recall the moment he stepped into his house to see it shattering against the wall, his father the perpetrator as a result of the fight he'd been having with his mother.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"<em>Get out of here, you son of a bitch!"</em></p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p><em>"If I can't live here in this house anymore, then whatever I bought with my money will be destroyed</em>!"</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"...Hey, Wooyoung?" San's voice pulls said male back into the present, and just like that, his parents' furious words fade away, now replaced with San's tender brown eyes. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The older man waves a hand across Wooyoung's face, a teasing smile ceasing his lips. "Earth to Woo? You like this place <em>that</em> much? You're <em>kinda</em> zoning out."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Ah, sorry," Wooyoung clears his throat. His eyes run over the house's decor once again, and just like before, he becomes awestruck. This is only the livingroom, yet he feels as though he's stepped into another dimension entirely. Where San's house back in Korea is exceedingly large yet homely, this place looks like a elegant hotel suite just for two. It's quite... <em>intimate</em>.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Is this place to your fancy?" San questions, already having taken off his shoes to put on house slippers. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"You sound older than twenty-five," Wooyoung jokes to ease the slight nervousness that now grips him.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"I <em>do not</em>. I look fresh out of high school," San argues, but he's laughing, eyes crinkling at the corners. He's also totally unaware of Wooyoung staring at him while he does. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"That'll be <em>super</em> weird if you were though," Wooyoung says, averting his eyes when San looks at him. "Actually fresh out of highschool, I mean. You'd be eighteen and I twenty two and -- <em>yeah</em>."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He's rambling and he knows it. Fingers shaking a little, and thoughts racing, he switches to house slippers as well, relieved when the extra pair fit him.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Why'd it be weird, though? I mean, it'll only be a four year age difference." San suddenly sounds <em>close</em> -- closer than what Wooyoung definitely expects, but he restrains himself from turning around. "What? Are you thinking about us <em>dating</em>? I myself think I'd like the thought of you being the older one."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung releases a loud, forceful laugh. He claps, quickly slipping away. "<em>Hah</em>, good one. Is there any food around? I'm kinda hungry." </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"You never answered if this place's to your fancy, though."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Don't <em>say</em> it like that," Wooyoung presses, but when San chuckles, he breaks out into a big, dorky grin. "But this place is <em>sick</em>."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Wait until you see the <em>rooms</em>." San's also smiling wide, and soon enough they're both storming down the hall with their suitcases like a bunch of toddlers.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung gets hit by another wave of wonder when San introduces him to the bedrooms. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The first's small but exudes <em>comfort</em>, with royal purple bedding and curtains, along with a carpet that glows pale lilac in the dark. The second one's more spacious by a considerable margin, its interior more regal red and gold than anything else. It looks like what Wooyoung would imagine a room that belonged to royalty would look like -- that is, if he ever had the chance to step into an actual castle.</p>
</div><p><br/>"Dibs on the first," he tells San without even having to think twice about it. Before all the doubt and thoughts about him <em>undeserving</em> of having the choice to pick his own room can wheel themselves in, San smiles at him.</p><p>"<em>Ah</em>, I should've known you'd prefer the spacey themed one," San says. He looks amused, and far from being annoyed at Wooyoung for choosing the room he wanted. "Good thinking, fits you anyway."</p><p>Wooyoung's neck flushes, but he decides to ignore the older man's statement. "Thanks again for uh, for bringing me here," he says instead.</p><p>"Woo, it's seriously <em>no </em><em>problemo</em>." San pats his back, while Wooyoung scrunches his nose at his words. "It's my birthday gift to you, well, apart from that portrait of me."</p><p>"Oh, you mean the first thing you see when you step into the gates of hell?"</p><p>San doubles over in laughter. "Oh my god, fuck <em>you</em>. You're an <em>ass</em>."</p><p>"Yes, yes, I have an ass," Wooyoung cheekily replies. He's got no idea where all this courage comes from, but the fact that San finds him <em>funny</em> makes him feel like he's doing something good.</p><p>San smirks, one that has Wooyoung's stomach flipping. The man takes a step back, stroking his chin. "Yeah. You <em>do</em> have an ass. A very nice one at that."</p><p>Wooyoung throws his scarf at San's face. "Oh my fucking god."</p><p>San's laughing again, so loud it resonates throughout the entire house. "What? I'm just stating the truth here."</p><p>Wooyoung's breath hitches, his heart doing <em>something</em> when he catches the older man staring at his butt. "<em>Food</em>! We're eating food, yes."</p><p>San wraps the younger's scarf around his neck, a sly grin on his face. "Yep, we're going to eat, alright."</p><p>Wooyoung fucking hates the way his mind descends into the gutter right then. He pretends San's comments about his body have no bearing on him, pushes that dream he had of the older man just yesterday into the deepest corner of his mind, and makes his way to the kitchen. Just like the rest of the house, it's <em>spotless</em>.</p><p>San's next to him in no time, and then there's silence, the older just pointedly watching his face.</p><p>"<em>Actually</em>, we should take a shower. Just spent like, two hours in a plane and I feel sorta gross," Wooyoung says, which causes San to laugh.</p><p>San makes the 'ok' sigh with his fingers. "Sure. We can do that. But I'm not sure what we're having for dinner, though. I dont think there's much food around since I only come here on special occasions."</p><p><em>I only come here on special occasions</em>. Wooyoung replays the sentence over in his mind. It doesn't mean anything, he tells himself, but that's especially hard to believe when he spots the way San keeps smiling at him. Now that he thinks about it, he's never seen the man smile <em>this</em> much in one setting before.</p><p>And it's nice. His smiles brighten his face.</p><p>"What?" San asks, leaning on the empty kitchen counter.</p><p>Wooyoung blinks. "Hm?"</p><p>"You look like you wanna tell me something." San gestures at him with his hand. "Go on, tell me."</p><p>"Actually, I -- " Wooyoung lightly coughs, trying to ease the lump in his throat. "It's nothing."</p><p>"<em>Come on</em>. I know you're hiding something," San answers, leaning in, a smaller, <em>softer</em> smile flitting over his features. "And it's okay, I'm not gonna judge. I'm just curious -- "</p><p>"<em>No</em>," Wooyoung interrupts. He blinks repeatedly. "I don't have anything to say, sorry. I just -- I zoned out." <em>I can't say anything about how your face lights up when you smile, or how your eyes turn into half moons and shine when you're happy. Or how deep your dimples get whenever you laugh, and how pretty they look, like Ariana Grande could never</em>. <em>And I really can't talk about that </em><em>weirdass</em><em> floaty feeling I get in my chest whenever you grin at me.</em></p><p>"Oh." There's no telling how San feels from that word alone, and Wooyoung isn't looking at his face so he has no idea the kind of expression he's wearing. He finds some comfort in that; he's too afraid of his emotions to act accordingly.</p><p>"I'll go get freshened up," Wooyoung says, turning to head in the opposite direction. He only realizes after a few seconds that he doesn't know where the bathroom's located since San never pointed it out to him. His face flushes in embarrassment. "Uh, hyung -- "</p><p>His heart stirs when he hears San's quiet chuckle.</p><p>"The closest one's the first door to the left upstairs."</p><p>"Oh, thanks." Wooyoung glances at San, and as soon as he does he swears at himself.</p><p>San's only a few inches away, Wooyoung's scarf still snugly secure around his neck. His eyes have this twinkle in them, and although he isn't smiling, he looks like the sun, its brightness and its warmth combined. Or maybe those are the lightbulbs illuminating his skin, but, he looks...</p><p>"Hot. You look hot, like you're heating up. You okay?" San's question is lathered with concern, his brows furrowing as he rests a hand on Wooyoung's forehead. "Gosh. Are you running a fever?"</p><p>Wooyoung steps back, chest heaving like he's just gone through near-death experience. It's like he's taken the wrong step, and now he's tripping, spiralling downwards with <em>nothing</em> to hold on to. "I'm -- I'm fine."</p><p>"I'll turn on the air condition," San says, not seeming to have heard Wooyoung properly. "Although I don't feel hot at all, I don't want you melting into a puddle and -- "</p><p>"<em>I said I'm fine</em>,<em> San,</em>" Wooyoung repeats, much louder now. He sounds harsher too, and he winces at the fact. Fuck, he just keeps messing up today, huh?</p><p>San pouts, but then his lips stretch into a thin line. "Sorry."</p><p>"I'm okay," Wooyoung says. "I'm sorry for snapping at you like that, but it's literally the winter season. I don't need to feel any more cold than I already am."</p><p>"I just," San pouts again, eyes lowered, "I just wanted to look out for you. I wanted you to... feel at home."</p><p>Wooyoung gulps, feeling even worse. "I'm sorry."</p><p>"You should go take a shower, yeah?" San says, pulling off the younger's scarf. Seeing it's like a punch to the gut, even if it's nothing serious. "I will too. And then, we can have dinner."</p><p>If this were any other moment, Wooyoung would've shortened the space between them with a hug, or something. But right now, he <em>can't</em>. Not with his heart racing a mile a minute, not with his head cluttered with divisive thoughts, and certainly not with that <em>dream</em> he had last night. No, he can't risk anything. He can't fuck things up or <em>ruin</em> the friendship he and San managed to chalk up. He can't <em>do anything</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung leaves, and it's only when he's in the bathroom that he feels like he can breathe again.</p><p>Just like San predicted, there's nothing much that's edible in the house, but it's okay when Wooyoung finds some bread to make toast, some bacon, and a coffee maker. So in conclusion, they're having breakfast for dinner.</p><p>Despite Wooyoung being a piece of shit to him earlier, San still enthusiastically helps him out with the food when he's needed, so the preparation goes smoothly.</p><p>"I'm <em>kind of</em> embarrassed of how bare everything is," San speaks after about two minutes of silence. "I mean -- I know I barely spend time here, but everything's so <em>dry</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung, still reeling with guilt over his actions, chooses his next words carefully. "We can shop and stuff tomorrow. Like, buy just enough for two days." He pauses, panicking a bit at how <em>domestic</em> that sounds. "Or we can just order food, or eat outside -- like most people do on vacations."</p><p>"Good idea," San says after taking a bite of buttered toast. He's in pjs again, a grey one with numerous blushing clouds on them, and his hair is pulled into a lazy ponytail. Wooyoung looks away when he realizes he's staring again. "And -- <em>oh</em>! We can go to a beach resort and try out a couple rides. There are really nice restaurants by the beach to eat and drink too. But we won't spend too much time outside so you can study."</p><p>His consideration makes that floaty sensation erupt inside Wooyoung again, and it renders him breathless. His grip on his mug tightens, nails almost scraping against its surface.</p><p>"We can do clothes shopping too, on Sunday," San continues his thought process. "Whatever you want, I'll get it."</p><p>"You don't need to."</p><p>"I <em>want</em> to. Truly." San's eyes are a cozy brown that remind Wooyoung of hot chocolate. They glisten with sincerity. "Let me treat you and take care of you. Please."</p><p>"Why?" Wooyoung blurts before he can stop himself. He stares at his fingers, seeing they're now stark white. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean -- "</p><p>"No, it's fine," San says. "Ask me whatever. I want us to be able to talk about anything. Like, you shouldn't feel <em>scared</em> of asking me questions."</p><p>"I'm not scared," Wooyoung feels defensive, for some reason. "I'm not scared of talking to you."</p><p>San smiles. "That's good. I just want you to...tell me how you feel, what you think."</p><p>"You want me to be honest."</p><p>"Yep. Yeah," San nods, playing with his bacon. He's making a smiley face with them. "Just, don't be too rough and hurt my feelings..."</p><p>Wooyoung chews his lip. Looking at San like this, the man suddenly looks like the younger one. He's got good skin, Wooyoung realizes, free of wrinkles and pimples. And now that he's pouting again, he looks so <em>innocent</em>.</p><p>"...I don't know why you're buying things for me when I...I wasn't brought here for that," Wooyoung slowly begins. <em>When I'm only here to work until you get sick and tired of seeing my face</em>.</p><p>"That's because I enjoy your company. I enjoy spending time with you, and when you're around... I don't feel as alone," San confesses, his answer one Wooyoung hadn't been expecting. "I'm sure you've noticed I only talk to Joongie and Mingi, and sometimes Yunho?"</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't know what to say, so he quickly nods. Now that San's said it, he <em>has</em> noticed the lack of <em>people</em> the man seemed associated with, and how quiet and reclusive San would act at times, even with Wooyoung around. He didn't look like he enjoyed leaving the house either.</p><p>"I'm not much of an outgoing person," San explains, fiddling with a stray lock of his hair. "In fact, I'm quite reserved. I don't have a lot of people I'm close with, and staying at home a lot tends to feel isolating sometimes. That's where <em>you</em> come in. You're <em>fun</em>, and you make me smile a lot. I like that."</p><p><em>Fun</em>? Wooyoung never knew someone would ever describe him in such a way. Shy? Standoffish? Friendless? Yes, those adjectives are ones he's more than familiar with. But being <em>fun</em>? Wooyoung thinks he's hearing wrong.</p><p>"<em>I'm</em> fun?"</p><p>"Yeah, you're fun. You're also really cool, and strong-willed."</p><p>Wooyoung's both flustered and appalled by these descriptions. "What? I'm <em>so not</em> cool. And strong-willed? I feel like you're indirectly calling me stubborn but you're just trying to be nice."</p><p>"You think I'm just <em>trying to be nice</em>?" Now it's <em>San's</em> turn to look appalled. "I'm just speaking the truth. Learn how to take compliments, my guy."</p><p>Wooyoung nibbles his toast, his throat drying when he notices the extra pieces of bacon San places on his plate.</p><p>"More bacon for the cutie who cooks for me and makes me laugh. You're totally -- " San pulls out something from his breast pocket. It's a finger-heart. "<em>Awesome</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung pauses, before chuckling nervously. "Uh...thanks?"</p><p>San adds a second finger-heart, and makes then <em>bigger</em>. He starts waving them around. "Awesome, awesome, Wooyoungie is awesome -- "</p><p>"Oh god. Please stop."</p><p>"Wooyoungie is the <em>awesomest</em> man ever," San drawls in a high-pitched, babyish voice.</p><p>Wooyoung pats his cheeks. They're <em>burning</em>, and probably pink as heck. "Awesomest is <em>not</em> a word."</p><p>San just continues to grin and make finger-hearts at him, and <em>crap</em>, Wooyoung's heart feels too big for his chest.</p><p>"I saw you crying on my second night at your house." Wooyoung's lips snap shut as soon as he says this, but San has already heard him.</p><p>"...What?" San's previous smile is nowhere in sight, and the heaviness pressing on Wooyoung's chest <em>grows</em>.</p><p>"Y-You said you want us to be honest with each other." Wooyoung sips coffee from his mug, hoping the dose of caffeine would shock him into being braver. "I'd been walking around that night -- because I couldn't sleep -- and I guess I somehow came across your bedroom. I heard... <em>crying</em>, and before I could think twice about it, I went in. And then, I..."</p><p>"And then you what?" San asks, face blank.</p><p>"I held you, and you stopped crying and fell back asleep," the younger finalises. "I'm sorry for not telling you about it earlier. Guess I felt you wouldn't have liked me witnessing something so <em>private</em>."</p><p>San exhales, shoulders bending forward like he wants nothing else than to <em>hide</em> himself. "Sorry you had to see that. Probably scarred you."</p><p>"Why would it? I was just worried about you."</p><p>San's lips curve into a faint smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Thanks. For um, caring. And thank you for telling me."</p><p>"You're welcome." Wooyoung, despite his nerves, keeps his gaze on San, wanting to gauge how he's feeling.</p><p>San catches him in no time, and he rubs his neck. "You're staring at me like that again."</p><p>"Like what?"</p><p>"Like a puppy. You've got doe eyes -- similar to a puppy's," San laughs. "Trying to make me fall for you or what?"</p><p>Wooyoung's head spins. "I don't -- I'm not trying to -- "</p><p>"It's a joke."</p><p>"Oh."</p><p><em>It's a joke, that's all it is.</em> Wooyoung says nothing for the rest of dinner, and so does San. In the end, they're both too tired to stay up, and decide to go to bed.</p><p>"We can like...get you some pyjamas if you like," San says after walking Wooyoung to his room, suppressing a yawn with the back of his palm. "I noticed you wear sweats and a shirt to sleep most of the time."</p><p>"Oh." Wooyoung once again doesn't know what to say, especially now that he's aware of how much attention San pays him. "I guess I won't mind."</p><p>San giggles. "You just made the right choice."</p><p>Wooyoung playfully shoves his chest, ignoring how electrified his fingers feel afterwards. "<em>Goodnight</em>, hyung."</p><p>"Goodnight, Wooyoung-ah."</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p><br/>Sunset's Dusk is a small restaurant near hyeopjae beach that, despite it's hilarious name, provided a secure and laid-back atmosphere, and served really nice seafood. Surrounded by glowing Christmas trees, minimal chatter and buzzing fairy lights, Wooyoung feels amazing.</p><p>"I forgot how scary lobsters can be," San's voice eases into Wooyoung's head at that moment, causing the younger man to look up. He laughs into his hand when he sees the man, decked in a thick winter coat and a fuzzy black beanie, stare at the crustacean on his plate like it'd hop back to life any second.</p><p>"I thought lobster's a classic rich people staple," Wooyoung teases.</p><p>"They're scary. Why would you think that?" San gasps, and Wooyoung laughs again.</p><p>Both guys entered the restaurant an hour ago after going on a few rides at the beach resort they went to, situating themselves in the seats furthest away from any windows and shifting eyes. It was Wooyoung's idea, even when San tried to reason that people around here wouldn't recognize him when he's dressed like a 'regular Jeju citizen'.</p><p>"Why'd you order it, then?" Wooyoung asks, rolling his eyes at the way San cringes when he leans over the table to cut out the lobster meat for him. "See? Easy-peasy."</p><p>"I feel like I just witnessed a murder."</p><p>"Oh my <em>god</em>. Just eat it," Wooyoung chuckles. He attempts to take a forkful of braised fish, but notices his fingers are a little sticky now. "Shit. I'm gonna head to the bathroom to get my hands cleaned."</p><p>"Yeah, sure. Leave me to ingest this grotesquely large lobster all by myself."</p><p>"You are so lame." Wooyoung smiles, about to stand when he locks eyes with a woman a couple seats away. It's brief, though, as the woman looks away as soon as they make eye contact, and Wooyoung feels his heart start to beat again. <em>Stop being weird. It's just another human being</em>.</p><p>After washing his hands as much as he can in the bathroom, he leaves but stops in his tracks at what he sees next.</p><p>San's still seated, but the same lady from before stands before him, donned in a dark green sweater as she tucks a strand of her long, curly red hair behind her ear. She passes San a note, before rushing to a table where two other women sit.</p><p><em>She most likely just gave San her number because she recognizes him</em>. Wooyoung can't help the bitterness that creeps into him right then. <em>Right, of course</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung, pretending he saw nothing, saunters back to his and San's table. He sits with more force than necessary.</p><p>"It's for you," San speaks, but instead of sliding the note in his hand towards Wooyoung, he just leaves it in the middle of the table.</p><p>Wooyoung blinks, eyes widening. "<em>What</em>?"</p><p>"Apparently her name is Anna and she thinks you're cute." San bites the inside of his cheek. "She's been looking at you for a while, actually, but I don't think you'd noticed."</p><p>Wooyoung looks to his side, and there Anna is, looking at <em>him</em> like San said. Bangs frame her dollish brown eyes, her plump lips the same shade of red as her hair. She grins widely at Wooyoung once their eyes meet, and he stills. She's pretty. <em>Very pretty</em>.</p><p>He stares back at San, internally <em>freaking out</em>. "Is this a joke?" He mumbles distractedly.</p><p>"You tell me. She's the one who gave me the note instead of speaking to you directly," San says, eyes narrowed. "That's so <em>elementary school</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung reaches for the note, inhaling deeply.</p><p>
  <em>I think you're really attractive. There's this get-together later tonight here, at 8, and I'd like for us to talk more then. What do you think?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>ps, my name's Ana! :D</em>
</p><p>"Are you gonna do it?"</p><p>"Huh?" Wooyoung looks up at San.</p><p>"Are you gonna spend time with Ana with one n?"</p><p>"Don't refer to her as that," Wooyoung scolds, to which San huffs at. "And <em>please</em> keep your voice down."</p><p>"She's <em>clearly</em> interested in you," San says, playing with the straw of his iced drink. He keeps stirring it but never takes a sip. "So are you gonna go out with her or <em>not</em>?"</p><p>"<em>Why</em> do you want to know so bad?" Wooyoung asks, a bit startled by the older's sudden questions. "What? Do you <em>want</em> me to?"</p><p>San averts his gaze. Now, he's poking his half-eaten lobster with his fork. "I dunno. It's <em>your</em> choice if you wanna hook up with her. She's pretty, so."</p><p>"Wait." Wooyoung rests against his chair. He doesn't know how he'd never noticed it earlier, but now it's more apparent than ever with how <em>cold</em> and stoic San's being. "Are you... <em>jealous</em>?"</p><p>San freezes, surprise flashing across his eyes. "W-What? <em>No way</em>."</p><p>"You're jealous. You're <em>so</em> freaking jealous."</p><p>San's cheeks glow a soft pink. "I am <em>not</em> jealous."</p><p>"You're jealous Ana's into me and not you."</p><p>San doesn't look shy and flustered anymore. "I'm literally <em>gay</em>, Wooyoung."</p><p>Wooyoung shrugs, trying to act all nonchalant despite his speeding heartbeat. He turns, catching Ana's stare once more, and although there's a smudge of doubt inside him, he smiles at her. She returns it, and he's once again struck by how pretty she is. It nearly <em>intimidates</em> him.</p><p>"You're going to meet her tonight," San narrates for him. He sounds disappointed.</p><p>"Yeah. I mean -- it'll be fun, right? What's the harm? I'll drive back to the house as soon as I'm done. Won't stay out too late." Wooyoung doesn't know why he's trying to rationalize his decision of meeting up with Ana, like he's trying to justify himself.</p><p>"You're leaving Jeju island when this weekend's over."</p><p>Wooyoung nods. "I'm not looking for a relationship."</p><p>San's lips part to say something else, but he stops. "...Whatever. I'll be home, watching movies and stuff."</p><p>"You don't want to come with?"</p><p>"And third-wheel your date? <em>No thank you</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung chuckles at the sight of San's pout. "Hey," he rests a hand on the man's arm. "Don't feel sad, hyung. I'm all yours after today anyway."</p><p>San's frown smoothens, and Wooyoung panics. <em>Shit</em>. <em>Why did I have to say that?</em></p><p>San touches his arm too, and Wooyoung's chest erupts with the fuzzy type of warmth. "Right now, at this moment, you just made a <em>promise</em> to me. You can't take it back."</p><p>Wooyoung rolls his eyes. "Okay, okay."</p><p>San finally smiles, his dimples showing. "Thank you."</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p><br/>Ana's...unexpectedly <em>shy</em>, and kind of adorable too. That's what Wooyoung soon discovers when he re-enters Sunset's Dusk a few minutes past eight, seeing her waving him over to their shared table for tonight. They quickly get to know one another, and it's still a bit <em>surreal</em> how she hangs on to his every word and laughs at his corny jokes.</p><p>She's <em>actually</em> interested in him. Wooyoung has to remind himself of that time and time again.</p><p>Learning Wooyoung has to leave after the weekend doesn't deter Ana however, and soon they head into a bar and she asks for a dance, which Wooyoung agrees to.</p><p>He's a little more open now after all the drinks he's had, and he guesses that's what loosens him up and gives him the courage to take her hand and have some fun for once.</p><p>He's once again reminded of how <em>lovely</em> she is under the hazy lights, her soft cherry red hair falling over her dainty shoulders and the pastel pink sundress and sweater she's got on. But, even with her bright smiles, how close she is and how nice she smells, Wooyoung doesn't really feel <em>anything,</em> other than relief at how friendly and comfortable she is.</p><p>"Hey, Wooyoung?" Ana speaks up, her smooth, honeyed voice barely heard over all the music.</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"You've got a little something on your shirt." She grins, stepping in to wipe said stain off, only for her to halt midway, and press a kiss on his cheek.</p><p>Wooyoung's heart stops, utterly aware of her vanilla scented perfume and her white painted hands lightly clasping his neck. All of a sudden, something frighteningly similar to <em>horror</em> overwhelms him, and he's stumbling backwards, heart in his throat.</p><p>He feels like he's losing control of his body as he vomits a slew of apologies to Ana. "I-I'm sorry. I need to go."</p><p>"Are you okay?" Ana asks, eyes wide with worry.</p><p>"Yes, I am," Wooyoung hurriedly replies. "I just -- I need to go. Sorry."</p><p>And then Wooyoung's shifting through the crowd of people, his legs about to give way under him. He's disappointed and angry with himself, because <em>yet again</em>, he's managed to let his nerves take over and fuck things up. He's supposed to be having fun with a beautiful girl that seems to <em>genuinely</em> like him, but now he's outside in the cold, regretting his life choices.</p><p>The snow from the night sky grazes his skin, and when Wooyoung rubs his eyes, his hands come back wet.</p><p><em>You're so pathetic</em>, the voice in his head spits. It doesn't faze him, because he already knows it.</p><p>Wooyoung's thoughts race as he drives the Jeep he came with back to Choi San's residence. He says nothing as he enters, too ashamed to even <em>tolerate</em> himself tonight.</p><p>The livingroom and kitchen lights are off, so Wooyoung assumes San must've gone to sleep or something. But then he sees the three plushies discarded on the floor.</p><p>He picks them up, a little confused, and as he heads down, he spots two more.</p><p>"San?" Wooyoung winces at how croaky and weak he sounds. "San, are you there?"</p><p>No answer. Wooyoung keeps walking, deciding to check the rooms. They're all empty.</p><p>Realization dawns on him right then like ice. <em>San isn't home</em>.</p><p>In an instant, Wooyoung races out of the house, his phone in hand as he dials San's number up to <em>five</em> times with no response.</p><p>
  <em>Where the hell did he go?</em>
</p><p>San doesn't drive. That's what the man told Wooyoung a few days ago while they'd been discussing their means of transportation when they arrived at Jeju island later on. So Wooyoung figures he wouldn't have gone far.</p><p><em>Fuck! </em>He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. Skipping out on using the car, he walks down the road, looking everywhere he can for the older man. <em>Where are you</em>??</p><p>Wooyoung resorts to running until he leaves the neighbourhood entirely, not ceasing until he comes across the public park he and San visited earlier this morning. Lungs aching for more air, Wooyoung steps into the area, trying not to let the silence get to him.</p><p>He walks and walks, but doesn't see <em>anyone</em> that looks like San. About to give up, he turns a corner and sees a bench in the distance. Someone's sitting on it.</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't even hesitate to jog up to them. At the sight of their face, his heart squeezes painfully.</p><p>"What the hell are you doing here?" Wooyoung questions. He doesn't care at all how harsh he sounds, not when San decided to disappear off to somewhere without telling him a thing.</p><p>San intentionally turns his head away from Wooyoung. "You went out. I decided to go out too."</p><p>Wooyoung laughs in disbelief. He can't believe what he's hearing. "You call this <em>going out</em>? You made me search <em>everywhere</em> for you because you chose to <em>switch your fucking phone off</em> instead of letting me know your plans. You're dressed only in pyjamas for Christ's sake, even when it's snowing heavily, and you're in <em>public</em>. What if someone saw you and <em>recognized</em> you?"</p><p>"It's none of your business if they <em>did</em>, Wooyoung," San snaps, jaw clenched. "You aren't me, so don't start acting like you give a shit now."</p><p>If Wooyoung's heart was being squeezed before, now it's getting ripped to shreds. "Get up."</p><p>"No. Leave me alone."</p><p>"Why are you being so goddamn <em>difficult</em>?" Wooyoung argues. He doesn't get it, doesn't get why San's deciding to act so fucking <em>stubborn</em> for no reason at all. "Is it because of that <em>date</em> I had with Ana? Well -- <em>newsflash</em> -- it ended <em>horribly</em>, and it's all my fault. Does that make you happy? Huh?"</p><p>"How can you <em>say</em> that?" San seethes.</p><p>"Then tell me what's the matter with you!" Wooyoung snaps, white hot irritation boiling beneath his skin. "Tell me why you're acting like this, San. Even -- even when we came home from that restaurant, you were <em>off</em>. Does it <em>bother</em> you that much? Me being with someone else?"</p><p>San's lips wobble, hands fisting the fabric of his pants. His ears and cheeks are splotched with pink when tears begin to roll down his face. His stony resolve breaks apart as he tries to wipe them off, body trembling like a leaf.</p><p>His quiet whimpers make Wooyoung feel like a <em>monster</em>.</p><p>"I'm sorry. Fuck." Wooyoung slinks into the bench beside San. He's at a loss for what to do now, and he's starting to hate himself even more than he already does. He just keeps making things worse, doesn't he?</p><p>He feels something holding the hem of his sleeve in a death grip, and when he looks down, he realizes it's San.</p><p>Wooyoung pulls him into a hug while the older man nestles his face on his chest, never letting go of Wooyoung. "I'm so sorry I got mad at you. I didn't mean to."</p><p>San places his hand on the left side of Wooyoung's chest, and Wooyoung fears he'll feel just how quickly his heart's beating. San doesn't answer, just leans further into Wooyoung's arms, and they stay like that for a while.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung makes hot chocolate for San as soon as they return to the house, wrapping the man with a thick blanket as well so fend off the cold.</p>
</div><p><br/>San doesn't put up a fight while all this is being done, and by the time he's finished the hot chocolate, some colour has returned to his cheeks.</p><p>"Thank you," San rasps, avoiding Wooyoung's eyes. "For tonight."</p><p>"It's okay." It's so <em>awkward</em>, and it's all Wooyoung's fault.</p><p>San chews his bottom lip. "Can...can you help me get my meds? I would go myself, but I feel <em>this</em> close to getting hypothermia. It's in my room, on the nightstand."</p><p>"Meds?"</p><p>"Yeah." San exhales a nervous laugh. "It's a bottle with 'prazosin' written on it."</p><p>Wooyoung's eyes flicker with recognition. "Prazosin? Wait, is it the one used for PTSD-related nightmares?"</p><p>San picks at his nails. "...How'd you know?"</p><p>"Did a paper on it once in highschool," Wooyoung explains. An overwhelming silence follows, and then Wooyoung's on his feet. "I'll uh, I'll get it for you."</p><p>San nods, his eyes trained on his lap. "Yeah. Thanks."</p><p>Once Wooyoung grabs the medication, he heads into the kitchen and gets a glass of water for San as well.</p><p>"Thank you," San says for what seems like the hundredth time that night, and just like the others, it drowns Wooyoung in nothing but guilt.</p><p>Wooyoung wants to ask San the reasons why he has to take prazosin in the first place. His mind's literally flowing with questions that need answers, but he knows it's not his place. <em>Especially</em> not after the stupid stunt he pulled earlier.</p><p>Not to mention, San doesn't look like he's ready to answer anything tonight.</p><p>"I should probably get changed and go to sleep," the man says after a few minutes. He inhales a breath, muttering in a much lower voice, "I'm sorry about your date too."</p><p>Wooyoung shakes his head, trying not to let his disappointment show. "Nah, it's whatever."</p><p>He sticks to San's side when he stands up, and follows him to his room.</p><p>"Goodnight, Wooyoung," San whispers, finally looking him in the eye.</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't know what comes over him at that second. One moment, he's standing in front of San as the older male wishes him a good night, and in the next he's cupping his face, swiping his thumb across his cheek.</p><p>San's warm. So warm.</p><p>San's breath hitches, and Wooyoung immediately drops his hand.</p><p>"Goodnight, hyung."</p><p>San stares at the floor, shutting the door soon after.</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't know what's happening to him anymore. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. jung wooyoung is not at fault</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div>
  <p></p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <b>
      <em>« takes courage to admit your faults</em>
    </b><br/>
<b>
      <em>takes even more courage to admit you're wrong »</em>
    </b>
  </p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung wakes up with something particularly painful lodged in his chest, drowsiness and racing thoughts. </p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>His phone alarm reads a few minutes past 5AM, and he groans out loud even though he'd been the one who set up the alarm in the first place. After spending longer than he should've revising his notes and surfing the web last night, he'd resorted to placing the responsibility of waking up first on his shoulders, as he wanted to be able to make him and San breakfast before they did all the activities they had planned for today.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p><em>What if San says he's changed his mind about it all?</em> A stern voice sneaks her way into Wooyoung's mind. Yes, it's a 'her', and she sounds exactly like the reporter on the weather channel he watched sometimes as a kid, all factual and concise. She's the most annoying voice. <em>What if San is already packing up his suitcases, ready to bring you both back to S</em><em>eoul</em>?</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung ignores those thoughts -- or tries to -- because his chest constricts even further until he feels like he's going to <em>faint</em>. </p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>He pushes himself off the bed despite his screaming limbs, groggy eyes taking in the contacts case lying haphazardly across his nightstand. He blinks at it, once, twice, and then shuffles his feet into his slippers and heads off without using one for his eye, hands patting down his wild mane of hair.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung's <em>tired</em>, and not to mention still quite not enthusiastic about having to arise so early, so when he knocks on San's bedroom door, enters and discovers the older man is nowhere in sight, he just assumes he went to the bathroom or something. </p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung's gaze falls on the bed, noticing the misplaced pillows, scattered plushies and wrinkled sheets, and before he can stop himself, he's fixing everything up into their correct positions. He doesn't know why he's doing this -- or maybe he actually <em>does</em>, because the shame is ripping him apart from inside out. He has no idea how he plans on confronting San about what happened the other night, especially not when all he can think about are the disasterous ways in which it could end. </p>
</div><p><br/>
When San's bed is now neat and orderly, Wooyoung sees the pill bottles lingering on the bedside table. Instantly, his remorse intensifies, because he's not supposed to be in here at all, but here he is, invading San's bedroom without his permission.</p><p>He leaves immediately, reeling with even more guilt. Once he steps into the narrow hallway, he's hit with something...<em>sweet</em>, yet savoury at the same time.</p><p>Wooyoung continues to walk, but stops when he hears something sizzling over the stove from the kitchen. He panics, because he's <em>pretty sure</em> that's San in there, unless someone new managed to break into their house at <em>five in the morning</em> to <em>cook</em> something. Both scenarios leave him with unfavourable outcomes. Fuck.</p><p>Wooyoung considers turning around and rushing back into his room. <em>Stop being a coward. You'll have to face San sooner or later</em>, the female voice enters his head again, and he grits his teeth, because she's right -- or <em>he's</em> right, because these are his thoughts. <em>Ugh</em>, he seriously hates this.</p><p>He moves forward, slowly as as quietly as he can, even when he knows it makes no sense to act like that when San has probably already heard his footsteps. He feels nothing less than a scummy burglar when he rounds the corner leading to the kitchen at the pace of a snail, the tantalizing smell in the air stronger than ever.</p><p>Wooyoung freezes as soon as he comes across San, widened eyes absorbing what the man's clothes. He's dressed in a black shirt with sleeves that reach his hands and highlight his broad shoulders, as well as strawberry red shorts. Most of his legs is on display, long and lean with a few moles present on the soft skin.</p><p>Wooyoung swallows, averting his eyes. "Um, good morning, hyung."</p><p>San doesn't answer. He continues to stand before the stove, flipping something with a spatula.</p><p>Wooyoung's heart plummets. "I -- I guess you woke up earlier than I did. Uh, I wanted to make breakfast, but uh, I guess you beat me to it."</p><p><em>Silence</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung bites his lip so hard, it begins to hurt a little. "I apologize for the way I acted yesterday, even though I -- I already said sorry. B-But I really want you to know that I meant it. If...if you're still mad at me though, I understand. I'm sorry."</p><p>San doesn't respond. He doesn't even <em>turn around</em>, still super focused on whatever he's making. His reaction heightens Wooyoung's nervousness, because he's obviously giving him the cold shoulder.</p><p>Wooyoung can imagine it now; him and San returning to Korea later that evening, and the man telling him to pack his things and get the hell out of his house. Wooyoung will be fired, forced to fend for himself on the streets as he tries to look for a decent enough place to stay. That would be the end of their peculiar relationship.</p><p>Wooyoung's hands clench, heart thrumming unevenly below his ribs. "...San, I -- "</p><p>San turns and their eyes meet. His face lights up with surprise, shoulders tensing. He fumbles a bit with the spatula before placing it in one of the pans on the stove, a rushed laugh leaving his lips. "Uh, hey..." He hastily tugs out something from his ears. Wooyoung recognizes them as <em>earplugs</em>.</p><p>"Hi." Wooyoung almost wants to laugh -- <em>and cry</em>. San hadn't reacted to him because he couldn't <em>hear</em> him, so the apology he'd managed to chalk up went unheard. He wants to smack himself.</p><p>San switches off the stove, looking even more nervous than Wooyoung with how sloppy his movements are. "I, uh, sorry. I left my earplugs on and didn't bother taking them off. Did you say something earlier?"</p><p>Wooyoung shakes his head, hating the awkward tension between them. "It's okay. I just woke up."</p><p>"Oh, okay." San rubs the back of his neck.</p><p>"Slept well?"</p><p>San adjusts the collar of his shirt. "Y-Yeah, I did. You?"</p><p>Wooyoung nods. He can feel San observing his exposed eyes, and to be honest, right now, he doesn't care as much. He clears his throat. "So...what did you make?"</p><p>San looks relieved, like he'd expected Wooyoung to say something else that he wasn't looking forward to. "Oh," he gestures behind him, "I made omelettes."</p><p>Although it should've been obvious from the smell alone, Wooyoung's still taken aback.</p><p>His expression must've bothered San, because the older adds, "I mean -- you're always the one making stuff for me whenever Mingi isn't around, so I decided to repay you. Don't worry, I researched extensively about the art of omelette making."</p><p>"Are you serious?" Wooyoung blurts without thinking.</p><p>The slight amusement in San's eyes vanishes. "Wait -- do you <em>not</em> like omelettes? Oh my god, I should have asked you first before going along with it. Or... maybe you're anxious to taste it because I made it?"</p><p>"No," Wooyoung refutes his question, even when he suddenly remembers those cupcakes San had baked for him on his birthday. "I'm not anxious or anything. I'm just..."</p><p>"Just what?" San looks <em>so nervous</em>, it makes Wooyoung feel worse about everything that happened yesterday.</p><p>So, instead of answering, he bounds up to the stove to take a look at those omelettes San made for <em>them</em>. San steps aside, but his gaze is heavy on Wooyoung's face as he gauges the younger's reaction.</p><p>Normally, Wooyoung wouldn't have passed up on an opportunity to crack a joke, especially when the main objective was to lighten up the atmosphere, but San's unease at that moment is so <em>evident</em>, rolling off of him in waves. And Wooyoung is eager to please.</p><p>"They look <em>really</em> good. Smell great too," Wooyoung compliments with a smile. San's wariness dissipates. "They look like they can <em>easily</em> be on the cover of a food catalogue."</p><p>"Okay -- <em>now</em> you're exaggerating," San snorts, relaxing further.</p><p>Wooyoung, a bit too flustered to look San in the eye considering how close he is, points at what he sees on the omelettes' surfaces. "Are those <em>vegetables</em>?"</p><p>"The recipe I read from said they taste better with them," San quickly defends himself.</p><p>"Thank you," Wooyoung says earnestly. "I can't even imagine how early you must've woken up to make them." He looks up and catches San staring right at him. "And...I'm sorry."</p><p>San's face softens. "For what?"</p><p>"For how I acted yesterday."</p><p>"I should be the one apologizing. I got mad and stressed you out for no reason," San answers, staring at the floor. "I just... I got too caught up in my emotions. I wasn't thinking clearly."</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't know what to say. He's always been bad at giving advice or providing comfort to others, and as a result, San's sudden confession leaves him bewildered.</p><p>"Hey." San holds his hand, but then lets go a second later. "You don't need to say a word. Let's go eat."</p><p>"I'll make coffee," Wooyoung replies, heading for the coffee maker.</p><p>"It's okay. <em>I'll</em> make it, I'm treating you today after all."</p><p>Whatever's in Wooyoung's stomach right then does somersaults. He feels lightheaded. "No, <em>I'll</em> do it."</p><p>"Wooyoung, please."</p><p>Wooyoung wants to argue, but he knows if he does he'll raise his voice or do something else that'll anger or upset San. He should be patient and let the older take the lead; that's what he read from that website specifically about taking care of people suffering from PTSD. He'll never admit it out loud though, because he doesn't want San getting pissed at him for butting his nose into his personal business.</p><p>"Sure," Wooyoung answers,the stiffness in his muscles loosening when San shoots him an exuberant dimpled grin. "Don't burn it, though."</p><p>San scoffs, offended. "Why would I <em>burn</em> coffee?"</p><p>Wooyoung shrugs, but chuckles when San laughs.</p><p>"Just take a seat at the table. I'll be your designated waiter and bring you your order very soon," San says, giving a bow that is so <em>princely</em> it takes Wooyoung by surprise.</p><p>Happy and encouraged by how open San's being with him again, Wooyoung decides to joke around himself. "Hey, where'd you learn to bow like that? A royal castle? Now that I mentioned it, you <em>kinda</em> look like Flynn Rider. Or Prince Eric."</p><p>San rolls his eyes. "Oh shush. They're too hot to look like me. <em>And</em>, well, my dad used to be big on polite postures and all that."</p><p>Wooyoung stares at the older, at this <em>undeniably attractive</em> man with so much wealth, and not to mention a kind and loveable personality too. The more he looks at Choi San, the more he realizes just how <em>unreal</em> he really is.</p><p>San smiles at him, and Wooyoung's speeding heart has an '<em>oh</em> <em>shit</em>' moment. "What?"</p><p>"You're hot."</p><p>San freezes, like he's now an inanimate object. He doesn't even look like he's <em>breathing</em>. "What?"</p><p><em>Oh my fucking god.</em> Wooyoung loudly clears his throat. "You're hot. I mean like -- you're <em>definitely</em> hotter than Flynn Rider or Prince Eric, so don't be too hard on yourself. They're not real, <em>but you are</em>, and um -- yeah."</p><p>San inhales. "Oh?"</p><p>Wooyoung hurriedly pulls out a chair for himself at the table and sits down. Taking a few seconds to once again admire the warm decor, he rubs his hands over his pants. "We should probably eat soon. You know, before the food gets cold."</p><p>"Oh -- right." San races into the kitchen to serve breakfast.</p><p>The omelette tastes <em>much</em> better than Wooyoung anticipated -- especially after that cupcake fiasco -- so much so that he finishes half of it in the nick of time. Sensing San's gaze on him, he stares at the man seated right next to him. "Hm?"</p><p>"Nothing," San shakes his head, lips stretching into a fond grin. His own plate reveals he hasn't really touched his food, and Wooyoung can't hide his dismay when he passes the plate over to him.</p><p>"No. I can't take this. You have to eat, you <em>made</em> this. You can't go hungry." Excuses upon excuses escape Wooyoung's mouth, but San's smile only <em>grows</em>.</p><p>"I don't eat much in the mornings, anyway. And we can always order food when we go out, don't worry. I'm good with my coffee." San then stands up, bursting out in laughter at the exasperated look on Wooyoung's face. "I'll be right back. Gotta go take something from my room."</p><p>The first thing Wooyoung thinks of is the Prazosin San apparently takes, and he wants to hit himself for it. <em>It's none of my fucking business</em>. "Sure. Don't take too long though."</p><p>
  <em>'Don't take too long'? What the hell?</em>
</p><p>San giggles and nods. He displays the 'ok' sign with his fingers and jogs off.</p><p>San doesn't take much time, <em>but</em> by the time he arrives, his coffee's probably already cold. He shows up with his phone to his ear and this highly gentle smile on his face that Wooyoung's only witnessed a few times. That 'something' turns out to be a medium sized, brown notepad that he drops beside Wooyoung's plate.</p><p>"Yeah, Joongie. We're coming back home tonight," San says into the phone. Wooyoung's the first to look away when their eyes meet, still utterly self-conscious of his differently coloured eyes. "Mhm, yeah. Yeah... You're coming back before New Years, right?"</p><p>Wooyoung busies himself with flipping open the notepad, guessing he won't be doing something wrong by doing so. After all, San was the one who put the notepad in front of him. He can't help but snicker a little at the puffy-cheeked doodles he sees scribbled all across the first few pages. He wonders what the notepad's for.</p><p>"Yeah..." San pauses, and Wooyoung notices the way his smile's disappeared. He looks away before the older realizes he's staring. "Yeah, I know. I'll have to leave... But I seriously don't want to. Not now. <em>Fuck.</em>"</p><p><em>Leave</em>? Curiosity builds up inside Wooyoung, burning through him like a forest fire. He restrains himself from asking about it, however, shifting into a new page of the notepad.</p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>objectives for today</em>
  </span>
  <em>:</em>
</p><p>
  <em>a) we go shopping (cute pjs are a must!!)</em><br/>
<em>b) buy food and go sightseeing </em><br/>
<em>c) beach timeee ( ꈍᴗꈍ)</em><br/>
<em>d) something to do with the stars ｡◕‿◕｡</em>
</p><p>"Shit, you just revealed everything you've got planned for us today," Wooyoung says as soon as San ends the call with Hongjoong. They lock gazes, and Wooyoung cracks a smile he hopes would lessen the frown on the older man's features.</p><p>San returns the smile, but it nowhere reaches his eyes. They're usually a friendly brown with some <em>spark</em> in them, but now they've darkened. They glare at something Wooyoung doesn't have a single clue of. "Was hoping you'd help out by adding -- or subtracting -- a few ideas."</p><p>Wooyoung feels the heat of San's dagger-like glare even when it's not directed at him. "Uh," he chews his lip, runs his thumb over the paper, "firstly, your handwriting's cute; something you <em>definitely</em> won't expect a CEO to have."</p><p>San's fingers graze his right ear. It takes a moment for Wooyoung to realize it's faintly pink. "<em>Really</em>?"</p><p>"Yep. It's super cute."</p><p>The pink on San's ears extend to the apples of his cheeks. "Uh, thanks."</p><p>"You're welcome," Wooyoung tries to reduce his awkwardness he feels. "And, you should remove the '<em>beach</em> <em>time</em>' option."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>Wooyoung shrugs, but he can smell the sharp salt of the evening air in his nose, feel the damp sand digging into his feet and the painful, nauseating tug in his chest just as he saw his father kissing another woman that wasn't his wife. The memory's so vivid, tattooed behind his eyelids like it just happened yesterday instead of many years ago. He remembers running back to his mother, heart in his throat and thoughts in disarray. As he stared at the rolling sea that night, he wanted to <em>drown</em> in it.</p><p>
  <em>"What is it? What -- why are you crying? Wooyoung, answer me. Wooyoung!"</em>
</p><p>Something clasps Wooyoung's arm, warm and firm, but not restrictive. He feels himself being shaken, and he blinks, that destructive cold, cold night fizzling into a pair of familiar brown eyes staring down at him, worry reflecting off them.</p><p>"Woo?"</p><p>Wooyoung stares at his clenched hands. They're as white as a ghost.</p><p>"Are you okay?"</p><p>"I'm fine," Wooyoung forces out.</p><p>"...We can get rid of that beach suggestion." San pulls out a black pen from his shorts pocket, ready to cross it out when Wooyoung reaches out to stop him. San stares at the younger, wide-eyed. "Wooyoung?"</p><p>"Nothing. It's nothing." Wooyoung doesn't know who the hell he's trying to fool. It's clear something's up, given by how he'd just overreacted just because San mentioned the beach. The older most likely thinks he's crazy now. Great.</p><p>"We can go to the beach, if you want," he quickly follows up with. "You sound like you really wanna go."</p><p>San stays silent for a while, and then he response. "The weather's too damn cold for any type of swimming. We can just hang out and talk and...stuff."</p><p>Wooyoung nods along, inhaling a deep breath. He distracts himself with his empty coffee mug. "Cool. We can do that."</p><p>They don't say much after that, but it's perfectly fine. Wooyoung doesn't want to talk about what just happened, like most things that took place in his life.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>The atmosphere's busy, people talking, laughing, and moving just about every corner Wooyoung looks. He nearly feels suffocated by the noise and the decorations and all the snow, but San's palm on the edge of his knee snaps him back to the present. </p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Focus on the road."</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Oh, right." Wooyoung obeys, making a turn when San tells him to. It's still a bit surreal how he's <em>driving</em> now. When he'd gotten his driver's license renewed a few months ago in case he ever successfully saved up for a car, he'd never anticipated using one just for him and San. "Where <em>are</em> we going, exactly?"</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"A clothing store," San says with a slight smirk.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Yeah, I know that. But what's the name?"</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"<em>Shh</em>," San teases, adjusting his black mask while his thumbs fly across his phone screen. Wooyoung can't believe he's playing a video game right now. "Just keep going and -- <em>get out of my face WizardTwister208</em>! I'll steal your bonuses!"</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung decides not to say anything else after that. </p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>He continues to drive, paying apt attention to San's words and their surroundings. For a few minutes, it feels serene; the crisp Winter air, the slowly cascading snowflakes, and San seated next to him, roseate pink creeping onto his cheeks as he tries but fails to fight back his joyous grin when he finally beats the players he's been battling all this while.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Wooyoung-ah, the road."</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Embarrassed, Wooyoung stares in front of him. It's a good thing he does, because if he hadn't he would've completely missed the grey car on the left that decided unexpectedly swerving into their lane was the right, <em>sensible</em> thing to do. </p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung slams his foot on the brakes, heart racing with panic. Nothing bad happens. "What the hell was that?"</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>He looks at San, but San's eyes are still focused on his phone. Only, nothing's playing and his grip is so <em>tight</em> it looks painful. His face is drained of all colour.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"San? Are you okay?"</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"R-Road. Please." San's voice is barely a whisper, but the fear in his words is as clear as day.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung obediently does as he asks, himself still disturbed by what had gone on just seconds ago. He can't help but think what would've happened to them if San hadn't warned him on time, or if he'd been a tad too slow to respond. <em>Stop thinking about it</em>.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Luckily, the drive is long enough to get San back to his usual self, or <em>most</em> of his usual self. He isn't smiling or laughing anymore, but at least he's being distracted by the game he's playing.</p>
</div><p><br/>
Following San's instructions, Wooyoung enters a specific, private parking spot beside number of other cars, but that isn't what catches his eye the most. It's the 'clothing store' San previously talked about, but it's more of a mini mall than a store, to be honest.</p><p>San leaves the car first, far more excited than he'd been before. And Wooyoung trails after him like a puppy as they enter the large building, not at all used to this surrounding.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung doesn't know what he'd been expecting, but he certainly shouldn't have been surprised at San turning out to be a hefty spender.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Especially on him.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"I think this would look <em>great</em> on you," San comments as he pulls out this rich blue coat which looks far more expensive than Wooyoung's yearly salary put together. "Blue looks amazing on you. Looks your size too."</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"I only stared at it <em>once</em>," Wooyoung answers, and it's not an exaggeration. His eyes fell on it in passing, but San caught him and decided he wanted it. He kinda does, but that isn't the point. "You don't need to get it for me, it's okay."</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"But it's so <em>pretty</em>. It's new too, I think." San opens it up, observing its design. "I'm sure it was Yunho's idea."</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"...Wait," Wooyoung says after a second. "Is this...from your clothing line? Is this Choi's Highlight?"</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>San does a jazz hands. "<em>Tada</em>! This is one of our branches. Surprised it took you this long to figure it out though."</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung clears his throat, a little embarrassed. "We should go get pyjamas."</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"I want you to try this coat out out first."</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>One outfit change ends up turning into <em>four</em>, and the latest one has Wooyoung a little nervous. It's not for a bad reason though, quite the opposite.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>San had chosen this merlot red dress shirt for him, complete with black slacks, a tuxedo and a bowtie of the same colour, as well as a pair of Oxfords. Even without putting the bowtie on, Wooyoung feels like he's looking at a new person altogether when he sees himself in the mirror. He looks...<em>elite</em>, but he's <em>so not</em> elite.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"You done?" San asks outside the dressing room.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Uh, yeah...?" Wooyoung despises how unsure he sounds. He gets all flustered when San enters and stands next to him. Donned in pearl white hoodie and jeans, with his bucket hat and mask, San looks more like the average male than he does. It's the weirdest thing ever.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Although San's looking straight at the mirror, Wooyoung knows for a fact he's staring at <em>his</em> reflection. "Your bowtie," he says after a beat.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung holds it up, not willing to admit he's not the best at tying them.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>San takes it, <em>something</em> rushing up Wooyoung's arm when their fingers touch. </p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"I admit, bowties can be a <em>bit</em> confusing," San begins, brown eyes lingering on Wooyoung's face before wrapping the loose tie around his collar. "But they're one of my favourite things to wear 'cause they can really... finish off a look."</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>San's fingers are quick, creating a perfect bowtie in a matter of seconds. He fixes it up, then pats Wooyoung's shoulder, and Wooyoung almost can't breathe. "...You're handsome."</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung's breath hitches. But it doesn't look like San's done with him, because he continues to speak.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"You're seriously good-looking. You can like, model and stuff if you really want to."</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Is this one of your compliments to make me feel better about myself?" Wooyoung questions, braving a glance San's way. Fortunately, the man's resigned to watching the mirror again.</p>
</div><p><br/>
"Yeah." San obviously wants to say more, but Wooyoung feels nothing but relief when he doesn't.</p><p>"Thanks. But, I seriously don't think you should get me this. It's expensive and -- "</p><p>"Come <em>on</em>, Woo. The combined price's only a couple thousand dollars."</p><p>"<em>Holy shit</em>."</p><p>San ends up getting his way however, and although what he gets himself is nothing compared to the amount he spends on Wooyoung, he goes a little crazy when they finally head for the pyjama section.</p><p>He always chooses the cutest, fluffiest ones with animal prints, and even if Wooyoung isn't necessarily the biggest fan of colourful pjs or onesies, he still has a blast with San that afternoon.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p><br/>
San takes them to the beach that evening after eating a bunch of tasty street food, which was Wooyoung's idea. It's a small, secluded spot with only a few others present, and despite its dull green, dreary lighting, Wooyoung's never seen so many stars gathered at one place before.</p><p>"It could be better, but this place has a lot of stars," San starts as he sets up the blankets they brought along with them on the rocks. "It'll be fun to spend some time here before we have to leave in a few hours."</p><p>Wooyoung nods. Covered in his snug clothing, he doesn't feel like he's freezing his ass off. In fact, he feels <em>fine</em> as he and San sit together, shoulders and legs brushing, but the gentle swishing of the sea brings back images he'd rather just forget.</p><p>San must've noticed, because he soon adds, "When I suggested going to the beach earlier, you didn't look too happy." His words are slow, careful. "Now, I don't want to seem nosy or anything. <em>But</em>," Wooyoung chuckles at this, "I am curious."</p><p>The breeze plays with Wooyoung's hair, and he has to struggle to pat it down at first. His heart stills when San eventually lays a free blanket over his head. "<em>Wow</em>."</p><p>"You'll feel warmer now. And I don't want your hair in my face," San jokes.</p><p>"Shut up."</p><p>San laughs, but sure enough, Wooyoung leaves the blanket cradling his hair.</p><p>"It doesn't make sense though," Wooyoung says. "You have longer hair than I do."</p><p>"The wind just favours me more."</p><p>Wooyoung shoves San, and San shoves him back. They both smile, but it isn't long until Wooyoung sees the curiosity on the older's eyes. He sighs.</p><p>"You don't have to talk about it if you don't wanna," San quickly says.</p><p>"I mean -- it's nothing dramatic." Wooyoung stares at the darkening sky. The stars are so bright, so dazzling that he feels if he reaches out, he'll be able to pluck one out and keep it for himself. He's well aware of how hot they actually are, but burning into ashes whilst holding a pretty star doesn't seem like a bad way to go, honestly.</p><p>"But..."</p><p>"But I don't know <em>how</em> to talk about it," Wooyoung finishes. He can recall the memory, can remember every last detail and every tear shed that night, but he <em>can't</em>, for the life of him, speak it out loud.</p><p>"That, my friend, is what we call 'emotionally constipated'."</p><p>"Classy."</p><p>San loudly giggles, nose scrunching. "You're <em>unbelievable</em>. But yes, I meant what I just said. Every bit of it."</p><p>"I'm not emotionally constipated," Wooyoung denies.</p><p>"You <em>are</em>, and there's nothing inherently wrong with it. You just need a bit of a <em>push</em>, for lack of a better word."</p><p><em>What push?</em> Is what Wooyoung's about to ask when San pulls out the same notepad he'd shown him this morning. That, and a blue inked pen this time.</p><p>"<em>Really</em>?" Wooyoung's brows raise.</p><p>"<em>Yes</em>. Really," San replies with a smirk. His lips and cheeks are a soft pink as the wind slightly tugs at his shoulder length hair, and Wooyoung's once again reminded of how much he resembles a prince.</p><p>San jots down a few words that he doesn't allow Wooyoung to see on a brand new page, and Wooyoung waits. He'll be telling a huge lie if he said he wasn't wary of whatever San has planned.</p><p>San then passes the notepad and pen into his hands. "If it's hard for you to say how you feel, you can write it down on paper. It's actually nice. I won't read it if you feel it's too private."</p><p><b><span class="u"><em>What happened that made you dislike the beach?</em></span></b> Is what's written on the first line in San's neat handwriting.</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't really know how this would help him, but he gives it a shot anyways.</p><p>'<em>My dad cheated on my mom at the beach on my birthday. Just turned eleven</em>', Wooyoung writes. The memory's etched into his mind, and every time he takes a breath, he smells salt and earth. '<em>I saw him by his car with some woman, but I didn't tell my mother. Was the first out of many times dad cheated on her</em>'.</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">
      <em>How did it make you feel?</em>
    </span>
  </b>
</p><p>Wooyoung hesitates before answering. <em>I don't have to say anything,</em> he thinks.</p><p>'<em>Pretty bad. Inadequate. Like, mom and I weren't enough for him. I felt like my heart just got bashed into and ripped apart to nothing. It was soul crushing'</em>. It's hard putting what he feels on paper, but it's admittedly easier than speaking it into the air. '<em>I</em><em> felt bad too. Like, I can't imagine what being cheated on feels like, but I bet it's horrible. I felt so shitty and useless for not telling mom anything, even when she eventually found out later</em>. <em>I still think about it a lot</em>.'</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>
      <span class="u">What can you do to change that feeling?</span>
    </em>
  </b>
</p><p>Wooyoung tries to hide the way his hands shake, even when he's one hundred percent sure San noticed with how much he's been staring at him.</p><p>Tears sting the back of Wooyoung's eyes, and he takes a deep breath, loosening his muscles so he won't <em>cry</em> in front of San like a fucking sap.</p><p>'<em>Nothing</em><em>. It happened years ago, and I'll keep thinking about it even though I don't want to.</em>'</p><p>"Worst exercise ever," Wooyoung states, pushing the notepad to San. He can feel the older's shock even without looking directly at him.</p><p>"Wooyoung," San whispers, "I really don't need to read this -- "</p><p>"You're curious. So it's okay," Wooyoung cuts in. He sees San starting to read the words, and feels the need to lighten the atmosphere so that the ache in his chest won't swallow him whole. "Where'd you get those questions from anyway?"</p><p>San flashes a wry smile. "A psychiatrist."</p><p><em>Shit shit shit. Why did I have to ask that?</em> Wooyoung mentally berates himself. He keeps shut as San goes through the rest of his written responses, hating how vulnerable he feels.</p><p>When San finishes, he looks at Wooyoung with a twinkle in his eye. "First of all; you describe things really well."</p><p>Wooyoung softly punches his arm. "Shut up."</p><p>"Secondly, I'm so... <em>glad</em> you feel comfortable enough with me to share all this," San continues, sounding genuine. "...Do you feel better?"</p><p>"I feel <em>worse</em>."</p><p>"You're lying."</p><p>Wooyoung isn't lying though. His chest hurts, and he has to keep blinking to keep those stupid tears at bay, but he also strangely feels...lighter. Like a burden's been lifted off of him. But he doesn't know how to word it without it coming off weird, so he just snuggles further into the blanket, staring at the calm sea.</p><p>"It's not your fault what happened with your parents, no matter how much you think so," San says after a while, placing his hand on Wooyoung's shoulder. "You're different from them. You're <em>you</em>, and you have your own life to live. Even if it's hard to believe, you're not the one to blame."</p><p>San says this with so much conviction it makes Wooyoung think those words are much more personal than he lets on.</p><p>As a result, Wooyoung answers, "You too. I mean -- whatever's going on or whatever went on in <em>your</em> life before -- it's not your fault."</p><p>San's smile wavers, the emotions in his eyes forcing Wooyoung's breath right out of him. "Thank you."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. choi san is full of colour</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>
      <b>« you're the light that sets fire</b>
    </em>
    <br/>
    <em>
      <b>to my grey world »</b>
    </em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>Christmas was the most wonderful time of the year. Or, at least, that was what was broadcasted all over the news, sequinned into the sparkling decorations that shone through the snowing streets and uttered out of everyone's grinning mouths.</p><p>But Wooyoung didn't believe in it, just like how he never believed in the existence of Santa even before his parents could break it to him that the man wasn't real. And, according to him, <em>any</em> season and <em>any</em> day of the month could be the so-called 'wonderful time of the year' -- or maybe he was only trying to convince himself of that so more <em>good days</em> would come in his direction.</p><p>Wooyoung liked to think that if he thought about or did good things, then Karma (or whatever system in the universe that decided whether people were nice or corrupt) would hand him immeasurable luck in everything that he put his mind to. Turned out it really never really worked most of the time, but that didn't stop teenaged Wooyoung from believing in it.</p><p>It was the last day of middle school before winter break, and Wooyoung had just left school after the particularly gruelling 'pep-talk' his Choir Club leader, Mrs Lee, had decided to dish out after the underwhelming performance of one of their soloists during their collaboration with the theatre kids for the Winter Wonderland play.</p><p>"Whatever you end up doing, you have to <em>shine</em> in it. You have to give your all. You can't afford to half-ass <em>anything</em> -- in fact, that is the <em>worst</em> thing you can do. That's just called being a grey crayon. <em>No one</em> likes grey crayons! No one <em>wants</em> them, either. So have <em>life</em>. <em>Be</em> <em>colourful</em>."</p><p>That entire speech made Wooyoung think twice about whether this club thing was the right decision for him after all, as he hadn't joined because he had an innate talent for musicality, but because this was one of his dumb conquests he begrudgingly took on in order to gain some new friends. And now, it was turning out to only be a huge waste of time as he was supposed to be let out of school half an hour ago.</p><p>Things got worse when Wooyoung arrived at the cafe he went to sometimes after enduring classes that left him feeling even more like an idiot than he'd felt when he walked in, because at a certain point, they just seemed to regurgitate how utterly <em>useless</em> he was with everything that had to do with school.</p><p>He took one look at the tacky Christmas wreaths and baubles and fairy lights adorning the populated interior, and at the customers -- both students and adults alike -- laughing and chatting and just <em>having fun</em> with themselves in technicolour <em>without him</em>, and a miniscule part inside him had to wonder if <em>he</em> was that annoying little splotch of grey that no one wanted.</p><p>Wooyoung didn't dwell on that thought for long. He couldn't <em>afford</em> to either; he was in the mood for a caramel latte so that he could hopefully warm himself right up before he had to return back to his house.</p><p>Finding a seat was the hardest part of it all. He had the desire to avoid everyone's gaze even with his contacts on, and the cold, hard fear that gripped him each time his eyes fell on a full table was the <em>worst</em>. Latte secured tightly in his shaking palms, he made his way to the table at the further end of the shop, relieved that there was only one other kid seated there.</p><p>Wooyoung's heart was still racing a mile per minute however, but it settled slightly when the boy across from him barely paid him any attention. In fact, his head was bent the whole time, his shaggy light brown hair falling into his eyes which were framed by these huge and thick black glasses. He didn't appear to have ordered anything either.</p><p>Wooyoung took his time to sip on his latte, trying to relax himself as much as he could considering the strange atmosphere. His eyes kept getting drawn to the other kid, noticing the way the boy kept fiddling nervously with his oversized sweater sleeves and kept pulling his lips between his teeth.</p><p>Wooyoung had only made it to a quarter of his drink when he heard that distinctive sound of sniffling. He looked up immediately, seeing the hooded boy hastily wipe one eye under his blocky glasses.</p><p>Wooyoung didn't know what to do now. He was <em>horrible</em> at taking care of others, and he was only thirteen. What did thirteen year old boys know about comforting people who were obviously crying?</p><p>Wooyoung took another slow sip, but he couldn't savour the taste when all he could see and hear was the boy failing to hide his tears.</p><p>"...Are you alright?" Wooyoung chose to ask right then. Part of it was because he <em>was</em> concerned; the other part was because he didn't want to seem rude.</p><p>The boy shook his head, still wringing his sleeves, knuckles white.</p><p>"...May I ask what happened?" Wooyoung didn't know what he was doing, or why he couldn't just keep his mouth shut from here on out. <em>Don't ask strangers personal things</em>, his mother always told him. <em>N</em><em>o one likes people who don't mind their business</em>. He remembered her words at that moment, but the deed had already been done.</p><p>The brown haired boy shook his head again. He didn't want to talk.</p><p>Embarrassed for even trying, Wooyoung trained his gaze on his latte and nothing else.</p><p>"Actually -- " the boy suddenly piped up, his voice hoarse and thick. He sniffed again, finally meeting Wooyoung's eyes. "My...my dad d-died earlier this w-week."</p><p>Wooyoung's eyes widened. He nearly choked on his coffee in shock. "R-Really?" He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry."</p><p>The kid looked down, adjusting his glasses. "It's okay. I-I mean -- it's <em>not</em>, but, it's not your fault that he -- " he paused, pale hands clenching over the surface of the table. He looked so <em>frail</em>. "It's okay," he repeated.</p><p>At that point, Wooyoung <em>should've</em> kept quiet and left once he was done with his drink, because this boy was no one he knew or talked to before today. But, he couldn't stop thinking about what he said. His father had just <em>died</em>. Even when Wooyoung's own dad infuriated more times than he could count and wasn't really a nice person to be around, he still couldn't imagine permanently <em>losing</em> him.</p><p>"Do you want a latte?" Wooyoung blurted, startling the other boy. "Or something else?" He added.</p><p>"I don't like coffee that much." The boy never stared at Wooyoung for more than a second, and his hair was so <em>long</em> too. It made Wooyoung wonder how he could see properly with that.</p><p>"Well," Wooyoung tugged at his school tie, "what <em>do</em> you like?"</p><p>"Slushies," the other boy's reply was instant.</p><p>"Which flavour?"</p><p>"Uh... Blue raspberry?"</p><p>So Wooyoung got a large for him, glad he still had enough change for the bus. The boy thanked him unfailingly, expressing his sincere gratitude, but Wooyoung never took it to heart because he was outrageously bad at accepting compliments.</p><p>"Hope you won't get a cold or brain freeze," Wooyoung commented in passing, watching the boy with glasses practically inhale the slushie. It coated his lips blue. Wooyoung remembered Mrs Lee's colour analogy again.</p><p>The boy revealed what looked like a smile, though it was shaky. "I've got a brain of steel."</p><p>Wooyoung found himself waiting even after he'd finished his caramel latte, until the other boy spoke to him again.</p><p>"Thank you for this."</p><p>"It's no problem." Wooyoung scratched his neck, searching for something else to say. "And -- about your dad."</p><p>The boy winced. "Yeah?"</p><p>Wooyoung bit his lip. "Things may seem bad now, but just...hang in there. I think everything will start to look up before you know it, and your dad will still love you and keep cheering you on."</p><p>Wooyoung couldn't guarantee if that advice would work. After all, he had no idea of the relationship the boy had with his dad, and he'd never physically lost anyone before -- unless his pet goldfish Hyun counted. So he <em>certainly</em> didn't expect the latter to start tearing up right then.</p><p>At first, Wooyoung feared he'd said something atrocious, but then had the boy thank him yet again with watery eyes and a reddened nose. They didn't talk much after that, but Wooyoung assumed he'd see him around or something. Maybe they could even become friends.</p><p>But he never saw the boy again after that day.</p><p>"<em>I'm sorry! I'm a terrible person. I can't do this anymore. I'm so sorry</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung blinks and he's back in the present, his feet cold, palms fisted and heart hanging heavy inside his chest. He feels the most helpless he's ever felt in a long while as he stares down at San's shivering body shielded by his duvet, the man continuously mumbling these troubling sentences into the air.</p><p>"I'm a bad person," San whimpers again and again, rocking back and forth. His face is wet with tears.</p><p>"No -- no you're <em>not</em>." Wooyoung's voice sounds as exhausted as he feels considering how <em>early</em> it currently is, but there's also desperation in it. He's fucking overwhelmed; he doesn't know what the hell to do.</p><p>He kneels next to the bed, careful not to touch San without his permission. Something yanks at his heartstrings at the sight of the older crying. "You're not a bad person. You're a great, amazing person. You're not bad at all."</p><p>San buries his face in his knees, hands clamping his hair. He doesn't even look like he's aware of Wooyoung's presence.</p><p>Wooyoung panics. "San -- "</p><p>"Y-Yes, I know I don't deserve to live. I don't deserve it," San sobs, shaking his head repeatedly. "No, no -- don't take him away. Please! I'm <em>so sorry</em>. I'm so sorry."</p><p>Wooyoung hurriedly runs for his phone and dials Hongjoong's number as soon as he finds it. He chews his lip, almost tasting blood when the man doesn't pick up after the third ring.</p><p><em>Hyung</em><em>, please call back once you see this message</em>, Wooyoung texts, his clammy, trembling fingers causing him to retype the message more times than he can count. He never lets his eyes stray from San for too long either. <em>San is crying. He's crying and he won't listen to me and I don't know what to do</em>.</p><p>When the message goes unseen, Wooyoung drops the phone on the nightstand and races to San's side again.</p><p>"Hey, hey," he whispers, hoping he sounds encouraging enough. "Please, it's okay. Everything is okay. You're not wherever you think you are. You're with me, Jung Wooyoung -- a guy who has <em>never</em> thought of you as a bad person."</p><p>"I've done horrible things," San sniffs, nails digging so deeply into his legs, and it looks incredibly painful. Wooyoung wants to stop him, but the last thing he wants to his alarm him. "I-I don't deserve <em>anything</em>."</p><p>"You deserve everything good."</p><p>"I should've died. I-It should've been me," San retorts, voice wobbly with all the tears he's shedding. His cries are heartbreaking. "It should've been me."</p><p>Wooyoung swallows down the lump in his throat. "No. You <em>aren't</em> meant to die. You're supposed to live. Don't say things like that."</p><p>It's hypocritical for Wooyoung to be saying all this when San's confessions are what he thinks about daily, but it's <em>different</em> when it comes to the older man. He <em>can't</em> think thoughts like these, because he's a good person.</p><p>"I should've lost my life that night," San presses, tone hushed and weary like he's given up. With more anger, more <em>fury</em>, he continues, "It was supposed to be me. <em>Me</em>! I was the one who drove -- it was me. Me, me, <em>me</em>!"</p><p>"San..." Wooyoung's heart pounds in his ears, and there are daggers slicing into his chest. "It's alright. I'm -- I'm here."</p><p>He attempts sitting on the bed, and when San doesn't react, still hugging his knees for dear life, he shifts a little closer. "<em>Hyung</em>..."</p><p>San doesn't answer, but Wooyoung can hear his silent wails. His breaths are shallow and rushed, almost like he's hyperventilating.</p><p>"Do you need a hug?"</p><p>San doesn't verbally respond, but before Wooyoung can have the chance to feel disappointed, his left hand searches for his.</p><p>Wooyoung sees, and brings their hands together. San's feels cold, but Wooyoung's more than okay with warming it right up.</p><p>"Stay home today. Don't go to work," Wooyoung says after a minute of cautious silence.</p><p>It's been over a week, one spent with Wooyoung sitting his exams and San heading to work early in the morning and then arriving much later. Even with his and Mingi's occasional presence, Wooyoung knew San hated the new arrangement with a burning passion. He just didn't know it would've resulted in this.</p><p>"They're gonna get mad," San answers, wiping away his tears and doing what Wooyoung does when he's faced with a difficult, unfavourable situation: hide away from any and all forms of eye contact.</p><p>"Fuck them. Whoever they are. Who cares what they have to say? It's <em>Christmas </em><em>season</em>. You can probably fire their asses anyway," Wooyoung states. His brisk tone surprises him for sure, but when he spots San's lips quirking upwards a bit, he figures he said the right thing. "You <em>can</em>, right?"</p><p>"Not the more important ones."</p><p>"The point still stands." Wooyoung massages San's hand, amazed by how immaculately <em>soft</em> it is. He guesses that's how rich people hands feel like a lot of the time, anyway.</p><p>San looks at him and doesn't drop his gaze, and even if he's smiling now, dimples lining his cheeks, his eyes are dark and bloodshot.</p><p>"What?" Wooyoung questions, gulping involuntarily.</p><p>San scoots closer, then slips between Wooyoung's arms, resting his head on his chest. Like he'd done Saturday night in Jeju island, he places his hand right on top of where Wooyoung's heart beats.</p><p>"Your heart's racing," San comments, shutting his eyes. "I can fall asleep to it."</p><p>Wooyoung chuckles nervously. "Oh really."</p><p>San hums. "Really."</p><p>"Are you staying home today?"</p><p>San fists the material of Wooyoung's black pyjama shirt. "...Can you ring Yunho up for me? I'll let him know then."</p><p>"Now?"</p><p>San shakes his head, snuggling the younger. "Not now."</p><p>Wooyoung finds himself stroking San's long hair. "Hey, are you ever going to do something with your hair?"</p><p>"...You mean cut it?" San's voice is muffled, vibrating against Wooyoung's chest. It sends heat creeping up his neck.</p><p>"Don't cut it," Wooyoung admits. "I like the length."</p><p>"Wasn't planning to." Goosebumps litter Wooyoung's arms when San begins tracing shapes all over his waist.</p><p>"I like hugging you," San adds. "You're so warm."</p><p>"Uh, thanks?" Wooyoung smiles at the giggle he hears next. Playing with a dyed strand of San's locks, he says, "I don't have anything planned for today. What do you wanna do? ...Colouring? Watching cartoons? Playing dress up?"</p><p>San peers up at him, mischief swirling in his brown eyes. "I have another idea."</p><p>Wooyoung had to force the guy to take a shower first (because getting all cleaned up made one feel better after crying, which he'd learnt from experience), and after San whined again and again about it for a few more minutes, he actually listened and did as he asked. Wooyoung showered too, as well, and now, swallowed up in this crystal blue onesie with tiny yellow stars scattered across the fabric, San grabs a pillow and makes Wooyoung sit on the carpet.</p><p>"What are we doing?" Wooyoung asks, watching as San enters into a separate wing of his bedroom. The older doesn't reply, but he never needed to in the first place when he saunters out with a bunch of brushes and a huge makeup kit in hand. "...Wait..."</p><p>San crouches in front of Wooyoung, a brilliant smile on his face as he starts positioning the younger's hair out of his face with little clips. Just like his onesie, they're all colourful with playful designs on them.</p><p>"I like makeup," San admits, pulling out a small bottle. He smiles at Wooyoung's raised eyebrows. "This is called a Face Primer."</p><p>"I know what it is. I'm not <em>that</em> lost on beauty products," Wooyoung pouts. "But...what are you planning to do?"</p><p>"I want to do your makeup. Please, please, <em>please</em>," San begs all high-pitched, rubbing his hands together.</p><p>"I don't know." And Wooyoung actually <em>doesn't</em>, because allowing San to get so <em>close</em> to his face, allowing him to <em>touch</em> him will probably end in him having a cardiac arrest of some sort or doing something embarrassing. He's not a stranger to this; he's watched videos of people getting their makeup done by someone else, and they all required personal contact. The thought itself is daunting.</p><p>"I'm not bad at it," San says, face crumpling into a frown. "I do my own makeup sometimes."</p><p>Wooyoung remembers that time Yunho came to the house. <em>So it'd been him who did his own makeup then</em>.</p><p>"I really don't know..." Wooyoung repeats, looking at San. That turns out to be a mistake because <em>fuck</em>, now he's pouting and staring at him, eyes all glossy and pleading just like a kitten that's been hurt. It sends Wooyoung's heart rate into overdrive.</p><p>He blinks and coughs, eyes darting elsewhere. "Okay."</p><p>San <em>squeals</em>, eyes shining with excitement. His smile's wide as he pours out everything he needs, commencing with it right away.</p><p>A strange, unknown feeling flutters inside Wooyoung's body every time San leans in and adds something new to his features with much more care than he's used to. And it's awkward too, at times, especially when San's thumb lightly grazes his chin or cheek in order to reposition his face and get the best angle. Whenever that happens, Wooyoung's stupid heart does this stupid little jump, which he tries to combat by evading San's face each time their eyes meet.</p><p>Wooyoung tenses up as soon as San gets to his eyes. He's <em>pretty sure</em> San noticed, but before the man can say anything, he speaks up. "How'd you get into makeup?"</p><p>San chuckles. "Just thought it looked fun. Wanted to try it out, and I did."</p><p>"Since when?"</p><p>Something heavy flickers in San's eyes at that moment. "...Around two years ago."</p><p><em>It's been two years too since I cut mom out of my life</em>, Wooyoung thinks. He wants to slap himself for even going there.</p><p>San, unaware of his turbulent thoughts, gently swabs a brush with some grey eyeshadow. The colour choice draws Wooyoung's attention.</p><p>"Why grey?"</p><p>"Hm?"</p><p>Mrs Lee's words nine years ago echo manacingly in Wooyoung's head, similar to a swinging pendulum. It drives him crazy. "Why grey? Why not any other colour?"</p><p>Confusion flits over San's face, and now Wooyoung feels like a moron. "...Well, I like grey."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"Grey's nice," San explains, still looking puzzled by Wooyoung's sudden onslaught of questions. "It's cool-toned, especially the metallic type, and gives everything a refined touch."</p><p>Wooyoung stares at his lap. "Oh."</p><p>"Are you okay?"</p><p>"Y-Yeah. You can continue if you want."</p><p>San looks like he wants to ask more, but fortunately he doesn't. "Okay," he lets out, and then leans in so that their faces are mere <em>centimeters</em> apart. Wooyoung swallows thickly as San starts to work around his left eye, the same eye that he's been so unconfident of all these years. He can't help but think San's action was purposeful.</p><p>"I'm thinking of smokey grey and midnight blue," San says, voice hushed against Wooyoung's skin. The hibernating butterflies his stomach start acting up. The older man grabs a small palette of glittery colours, focusing on the dark blue one at the top corner.</p><p>"The combination's kinda sultry and mysterious," he continues, and then he's directly watching Wooyoung. For a moment, everything surrounding them stills. A second passes, and San clears his throat. "Anyway, I think it'll look <em>great</em> with your eye colours."</p><p>Wooyoung's phone buzzes out of nowhere, startling the both of them. His face and ears hot, the aforementioned male scrambles for the device, discovering a series of text messages from none other than Hongjoong.</p><p>- <b>kim hongjoong</b><br/><em>oh my god. i just saw your message</em></p><p>- <b>kim hongjoong</b><br/><em>is san okay now?</em></p><p>- <b>kim hongjoong</b><br/><em>i'm calling</em></p><p>The phone starts to ring, and Wooyoung immediately picks up.</p><p>"<em>Where's San</em>?" It almost scares Wooyoung how <em>frightened</em> the man sounds.</p><p>"He's with me," Wooyoung answers, locking eyes with San.</p><p>"<em>Can you pass over the phone? I need to talk to him</em>."</p><p>"It's Hongjoong," Wooyoung clarifies while handing the phone to San, and the older nods. They begin to talk, and Wooyoung feels like his heart -- like his <em>everything</em> -- can now take a break, only for San to resume his place right in front of him, ready to add on some sparkly blue eyeshadow.</p><p>"Yeah, I'm fine. Seriously, I am. I'm okay now," San says into the phone as he finishes off Wooyoung's other eye, intricately adding depth to the look with some eyeliner. "Wooyoung -- he was there. He's with me now. He helped me get better. He's good at that."</p><p>Wooyoung's heart stutters at the indirect compliment. <em>You're so lame</em>.</p><p>"Yeah. <em>Yes</em>, I will eat soon. Mingi's coming today. What am I doing right now? Wooyoung's makeup."</p><p>Wooyoung blushes, and blushes some more when San smirks at him. "It's not makeup -- "</p><p>San shushes him, before grabbing something that <em>looks</em> like lipgloss but not quite. "<em>Lipglass</em>. No -- I'm <em>not</em> keeping Wooyoung hostage, Hongjoong."</p><p>Wooyoung can't help it. He laughs, amused by the oldest's sense of humour.</p><p>"No, you can't talk to him right now. We're <em>busy</em>." San's laughing as well. He stares at Wooyoung, eyes twinkling like stars when he applies the nude lipglass to the younger's lips as tenderly as he can. Dimples appearing, he asks, "How does it feel? <em>Not you</em>, Hongjoongie."</p><p>To be honest, Wooyoung kind of feels stiff since he's <em>really</em> not used to makeup, specifically on <em>his</em> face. "How long is this going to take me to wash off?"</p><p>"Mean," San says, hanging up the call.</p><p>Wooyoung smiles. "I'm just kidding. But it <em>does</em> feel weird. Like I'm wearing a mask."</p><p>"A <em>pretty</em> mask, though you're already pretty as is" San corrects, getting Wooyoung all flustered. "I'm gonna go get the mirror."</p><p>He comes back quick with an oval shaped mirror in hand, and holds it up for Wooyoung to see, grinning widely.</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't even <em>recognize</em> himself at first, the image greeting him surprising him unlike anything else. His sea green-brown eyes stand out against vibrant blue and soft grey, so much so that they look <em>radiant</em>. Faint pink dusts his cheeks, and his lips plumper and smoother than he's ever seen it.</p><p>Wooyoung suspects he's dreaming, because he looks <em>unreal</em>. He looks like a doll. He looks...stunning.</p><p>"Who is this person?" He asks, and he's not really joking, because he can't fully believe it's <em>himself</em> he's seeing in the mirror.</p><p>"Jung Wooyoung...?" San laughs. "Do you like it?"</p><p>"Yeah, I do."</p><p>San gestures at his left eyelid. "Look closely. I put something there."</p><p>Wooyoung obeys, and sure enough, there are these small, realistic looking stars drawn on the inner fold of his eyelid. They make the starry theme San was going for more apparent. "They're pretty."</p><p>San places the mirror on the floor, so now there's nothing left between them. "I know."</p><p>Wooyoung takes note of how San's looking at him. Somehow, he knows what he wants without even asking. Opening up his arms, San jumps in and hugs him so quickly they both topple over.</p><p>"Fuck -- " Wooyoung rasps, a little breathless. "You're gonna mess up my makeup."</p><p>"You sound <em>so</em> <em>gay</em> right now."</p><p>Wooyoung shoves San's chest, but his heartbeat's noisy against his ears. "Shut up."</p><p>San laughs, but doesn't let Wooyoung go. His body's splayed all over him, his arms winding around his hips. He lands his head on the younger's shoulder. "You're a great hugger."</p><p>"My makeup..." Wooyoung whispers. Sparks light up his skin when San beams at him, pinching his cheek.</p><p><em>Yellow</em>, is what enters Wooyoung's mind at that second. San is yellow. He's the brilliant sunshine that spills over the earth in Spring, the fiery sunset that bleeds into the sky at dusk. He's the yellow on a butterfly's wings as it perches itself on a flower; he's honey and laughter and warmth and the light that glimmers over the sea on hot summer days combined. Yellow's etched into his skin, speckled in his eyes and present with every bright smile he gifts Wooyoung.</p><p>"I draw sometimes," San admits, keeping his gaze locked on Wooyoung's face. "I got a whole tablet of the digital art I made."</p><p>Wooyoung's throat is dry. "Let me see."</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Come <em>on</em>. You can't let me know you draw and then not allow me to see it."</p><p>San giggles. "No." He shrieks when Wooyoung tickles him, and the sound alarms the latter until San starts laughing again.</p><p>"Show me your art."</p><p>"<em>No</em>!" San cackles.</p><p>Wooyoung, feeling a lot braver than earlier, flips them over so he's on top of San instead. He doesn't stop his tickling attacks, the older's laughter like music to his ears. "San, for the last time, show me what you drew."</p><p>San grins up at him, eyes glazed with joy. "Nuh-huh."</p><p>His hair scatters and curls around his face, a wild sea of black. He looks so <em>free </em>like this, so full of life, and Wooyoung's pulse fucking <em>accelerates</em>.</p><p>San suddenly does this <em>move</em> with his leg that sends them spiralling, and then once again Wooyoung's back is to the floor.</p><p>"San."</p><p>San runs his thumb along Wooyoung's jawline. "Hm?"</p><p>"What are we doing?"</p><p>"<em>Wrestling</em>," San answers in the corniest manliest voice he can muster, which makes Wooyoung crack a chuckle.</p><p>Seconds tick by.</p><p>"Wooyoung, I..." San stops, appearing conflicted.</p><p>Wooyoung's brows furrow. "Hey, you okay?"</p><p>San bunches the younger's shirt with his fists. "Yeah."</p><p>"...Are you sure?"</p><p>San's eyes are piercing, lethal. They render Wooyoung frozen like ice when the man begins to lean in.</p><p>"S-San," Wooyoung stammers, body on edge.</p><p>San shortens the space between them, and kisses him.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p><b>a/n</b>: <em>thoughts</em>?<em> what do you think about their personalities so far?</em></p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. jung wooyoung feels (m)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>cw: mature content after the third '* * *'</em>
</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>
      <em>« all i want is you »</em>
    </b>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>San's lips are like silk, as faint as a summer's breeze as his eyelids flutter shut, whilst Wooyoung's eyes are open, as wide as saucers. The older's hands roll down his neck to his chest, squeezing onto his shirt for dear life.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung's heart <em>stops</em>, and so does everything else as the moment stretches and lengthens -- far longer than it should've. He feels like he's drowned and frozen underwater, with no way of ever reaching the surface. But he has to; he has to <em>get out</em>.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Like breaking through tough ice, Wooyoung finally gains the strength to <em>awaken</em>. His heart kick-starts, palms pressing against San's shoulders. And then he's shoving the older away from him, the heat of his touch forever smeared into his skin. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He gasps for breath as he forces himself to his feet, while San lays crumpled on the floor, limbs stiff and face veiled with a look that Wooyoung has never ever seen on him before.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"W-What was that?" Wooyoung can barely <em>hear</em> himself over his ricocheting heartbeat, distress tumbling out of his voice. Any moment from now and his heart'll shoot out of his chest, he's pretty sure. His fingers clench. "San -- "</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"I-It was a mistake," San blurts. He's also now on his feet, hands curling and uncurling. They're shaking so much. "I -- I never meant to do that and I just -- " he turns away, roughly biting his lip. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung's first instinct is to close up the distance between them, to comfort San somehow. But he's stuck to one place, mind replaying the way the older leaned in and <em>kissed</em> him. He can still feel his lips on his mouth; how <em>close</em> his heart felt at that moment to splitting into pieces. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"...Say something," San says, slicing apart the thick silence that envelopes them. His knuckles are completely white, wound into this tight grip as his thumbs repeatedly pick and dig at his skin. "Say <em>something</em>, Wooyoung. <em>Please</em>. Don't -- don't leave me hanging."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>But Wooyoung doesn't know what to say. Or rather, he knows nothing of <em>how</em> he should say it. So, he stands still as the seconds keep ticking, thoughts storming into his brain at every direction imaginable. He doesn't know what to do.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>San looks at him then, and Wooyoung's sure he can see the alarm and <em>fear</em> in his eyes, because his shoulders drop and something dark and unsettling flits over his eyes. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"I'm sorry for kissing you," he says, and Wooyoung gulps. He takes a step back when San attempts to move closer to him, and the man loses every last bit of the spark in his eyes. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Even with this, San continues to speak, his defeated tone haunting the confines of Wooyoung's mind. "I'm sorry for taking whatever chance I <em>thought</em> I saw. I'm sorry for being so <em>stupid</em>. I'm sorry for -- for having feelings for you."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Something attacks Wooyoung's heart right then, gripping it and slamming it and tossing it every-which way until there's nothing left of it anymore. It's so painful; <em>excruciating</em>, even. It hurts, so bad. And he wants it <em>gone</em>.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"I'm sorry that <em>I like you</em>," San continues, but Wooyoung doesn't want him to. He wants him to fucking <em>stop</em>. "Wooyoung, I -- "</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Let's forget this ever happened," Wooyoung cuts in, lifting his gaze to meet San's. He hopes he doesn't look like he's crumbling on the inside. "It was a mistake; let's leave it at that. You're -- you're my <em>boss</em>. There should be nothing else there. There <em>can't be</em>. I'm sorry."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>San's eyes water, tears dribbling over and slowly down his cheeks. The sight has Wooyoung's heart in shambles.</p>
</div><p><br/>He reaches out before he knows it, presumably to wipe the remainder of San's tears, but the older man doesn't allow it. He shifts his head to the left and hastily rubs them off instead, his jaw set and lips pursed.</p><p>"Sorry," San sniffs, voice just a whisper. He keeps looking at the floor. "Don't even know why I'm crying. God, I'm such a mess."</p><p>"It's alright," Wooyoung replies. But it <em>isn't</em>, and they both know it. He's just <em>rejected</em> Choi San, and it's every bit as shocking as it is nervewracking. The more time he spends here in San's bedroom -- the man who he's just turned down as a result of <em>liking</em> him -- the more he feels like he's overstepping his boundaries. He feels like he isn't wanted here anymore.</p><p>"I need to leave."</p><p>San quickly looks at him. "Wooyoung."</p><p>Wooyoung avoids his stare. "I need makeup wipes. I need to wash my face too, before Mingi arrives."</p><p>"Wooyoung," San repeats, lips quivering. This time there's something <em>different</em> about his tone, like he doesn't want the younger male to step out of that room. "Do you hate me? Do you?"</p><p>"I don't."</p><p>"You keep <em>looking away</em> from me," San accuses, voice all wobbly. He sounds close to crying. "I just ruined <em>everything</em>, didn't I? I just ruined our friendship."</p><p>"You didn't ruin anything," Wooyoung retorts, but it feels like a lie, because his heart feels like it's the one being ruined. His chest aches. "I just need to go right now. And I need those wipes."</p><p>San doesn't respond. He moves away and enters further into his room, his slow, light footsteps echoing in Wooyoung's head. He soon returns, pressing something cold and solid into his palms instead of what he'd asked for.</p><p>"Micellar water," San states, voice a little hoarse. "They're better than wipes. Sorry for the inconvenience."</p><p>Wooyoung nibbles his lip, despising the tightness in his chest. "Thank you."</p><p>San shakes his head, lips pulled into a wry smile. "No problem."</p><p>The doorbell rings through the house at that moment, alerting them both.</p><p><em>Shit</em>. "That must be Mingi." Wooyoung drops his hands, realizing they'd been touching San's, and clears his throat. "I'm uh, I'm gonna go get my face cleaned. I'll meet you guys in a sec."</p><p>He thinks he sounds casual and lighthearted enough, but San's broken, puppy-like expression never wavers.</p><p>Wooyoung internally curses at himself, and heads off, pretending San's consistent gaze doesn't send heat crawling up his body.</p><p>Wooyoung spends more than enough time in the bathroom beating himself up for the <em>disaster</em> that took place earlier. He can't help but think he's an asshole for the way he blew San off, and the words he said.</p><p>But, San was the one who <em>kissed him</em>. San kissed him, regardless of what he would have thought about it. He certainly didn't seem to care what would've came from his decision at that point in time, so Wooyoung shouldn't have to feel guilty of what he had no control over.</p><p>Wooyoung splashes some water on his face, and stares at the mirror as the cold drops cascade off his jaw. His eyes stare back at him, hurt and instability reflected through sea green and dark brown, and hell, Wooyoung feels <em>vulnerable</em>. He <em>is</em> vulnerable.</p><p>And he doesn't <em>get it</em>. Doesn't get why San kissed him in the first place. What does the man see in him? Why would he have feelings for someone like <em>him</em>?</p><p>Wooyoung thinks of San's lips on his again, and the butterflies in his stomach turn into bloodthirsty wasps that terrorize his heart and twist and cling unto his lungs, suffocating him to bits. He clamps a hand over his shirt, heart pounding beneath his fingertips.</p><p>He feels the ground open up below him, and then he's sinking, knees knocking against the bathroom tiles and his back hitting the wall. He fights and struggles to get sufficient oxygen to his lungs, and for a while, he lays there, head shoved into his trembling palms.</p><p>He begins to tear up.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p><br/>"Only one pancake?" Mingi says when he sees Wooyoung's nearly empty plate. They're in the kitchen, already done with the food and preparing to set the table. "You sure you don't want more?"</p><p>"Pancakes aren't really my thing," Wooyoung confesses, but he isn't really telling the truth. "I'm not hungry."</p><p>Mingi nods. He stares at Wooyoung for a second more, and then adds, "Did you do something to your face? You look a little pale."</p><p>It slightly irks Wooyoung how many questions Mingi keeps asking, but he doesn't let it show. "San did my makeup 'cause he wanted to," he answers, breath hitching when said male appears. He looks at Mingi before San can catch him staring. "Had to wash it off."</p><p>"Oh."</p><p>They say nothing else after that, but Wooyoung doesn't miss the way Mingi's brows rise when he sees him taking the seat furthest away from San.</p><p>But Wooyoung can't help it; he's nervous and confused. He can't fucking stop thinking about him and San kissing, and it's even worse now that San's now only a few feet away from him.</p><p>The tension in the air is palpable, lasting well until breakfast is over. Even Mingi notices, because as soon as San dashes into the hall and out of sight, he pulls Wooyoung aside, a frown on his face.</p><p>"Okay," Mingi starts, "what's going on?"</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>"Something went on between you and San," Mingi explains. There's a firmness to his voice that turns Wooyoung anxious, because in all the time he's known the older, he's never seen him so stern. "What is it?"</p><p>Wooyoung swallows thickly, averting his gaze. "I...I don't know what you're talking about."</p><p>Mingi's frown deepens. "Did you do something to San? He wasn't himself back there, and I saw the way he kept looking at you. What happened?"</p><p>Wooyoung's heart clenches. He feels like he's being cornered, and he hates it. "I didn't <em>do</em> anything to him."</p><p>"Then why are you both acting so <em>strange</em>?" Mingi questions, his exasperation startling the younger. His eyes narrow, puncturing holes into Wooyoung's face. "What the hell happened, Wooyoung? Because if you did something to hurt San, I won't fucking take it lightly."</p><p>Wooyoung takes a step back, heart racing. He can't believe what he's hearing, and Mingi's steely stare terrifies him. "I didn't do anything. I really didn't."</p><p>For a moment, Mingi looks like he doesn't think he's telling the truth, but then his shoulders sag and his eyes soften. He leans against the counter, pushing his hand through his styled orange hair.</p><p>"Sorry. I got kind of carried away," Mingi says, eyes apologetic. He stares in the direction San left, and sighs. "I just can't stand to see him sad or upset. Obviously, I can't tell you the full story, but San... He's been through a <em>lot</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung nods, stomach turning with nausea when he remembers San crying just earlier after what he said to him. <em>God, I'm a jerk</em>.</p><p>"To be honest," Mingi continues, looking over at him, "I seriously didn't want Hongjoong hyung bringing another person over to 'look after' San. I wasn't keen on meeting you, and I...guess I thought you were gonna be like the others and do something that'd make San quickly hate you. The previous guy got fired just after two weeks, you see."</p><p>Wooyoung looks down, fiddling with his fingers. "Oh..."</p><p>"You lasted longer, and San seemed to really like you, so what I saw this morning really took me aback. I think that's why I got so defensive," Mingi says. "I didn't mean to."</p><p>"It's okay," Wooyoung inhales, more than relieved the older isn't asking about what happened again. "I mean, if I had a close friend too, I wouldn't want anything bad happening to them."</p><p>Mingi smiles. "You know, you're a good kid."</p><p>"Kid?" Wooyoung asks incredulously. "I'm <em>twenty two</em>."</p><p>Sometimes, he even finds it difficult to believe he's that age already, especially when he all does is get lost in the past, wondering how he <em>grew</em> so quickly when his brain is still stuck in his teenage years.</p><p>"And I'm only three years older," Mingi answers, his smile turning more teasing. "Yet you seem much younger."</p><p>Wooyoung chuckles briefly. "Should I call you <em>hyung</em>, then?"</p><p>"<em>Nah</em>. Makes me feel real old."</p><p>"Duly noted." Wooyoung <em>seriously</em> can't imagine himself as twenty five, even if it's just three years away. In fact, that makes the age even scarier. But that was what he thought about his age right now two years ago, and here he is.</p><p>He wishes time would halt.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>During the days leading up to Christmas, it's like Wooyoung's the sole occupant of the house, because San totally vanishes off the face of the earth. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Of course, Wooyoung expected <em>some</em> type of avoidance on his side, but a small, selfish part of him wished San never kissed him in the first place. Why did he have to do it and make things awkward? And, why wouldn't he ever leave Wooyoung's mind?</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>On the day before Christmas Eve, Hongjoong calls him to say San's out visiting his family, so Wooyoung can spend Christmas doing what he enjoys, and Wooyoung's too ashamed to admit how discouraged and disappointed the news makes him. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Just like the past years, he's alone this time around too.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The next day, he buys a snow globe in a shop that catches his eye in the city, and gets another at the last minute. They're rather large, compared to the regular sized ones, but their quality design and how absolutely <em>pretty</em> they are make up for it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When he returns home, he places them on the couch and admires them. One is lilac; holding a simple gingerbread house and a happy snowman, and looking at them makes Wooyoung break into a smile. The other globe hosts a house too, and it's gold, cornered with fake snow and a grinning family of three huddled at the front. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung observes the both of them, soon deciding the one that'll be <em>perfect</em> for San when he comes back.</p>
</div><p><br/>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>hey, hyung?</em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>hope you're having a great time with your family</em><br/><em>thank you for everything thus far</em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>merry </em><em>christmas</em><em> in advance </em><br/><em>(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)</em></p><p>Wooyoung sends the texts before he can think better of it and delete them all, and tries not to take it to heart when San reads them but never responds.</p><p>Two days later, he gets invited by one of the college guys he did a project with a few times to this <em>thing</em> at a club, and yeah, Wooyoung obliges because he honestly has no idea how else he can spend the time.</p><p>Wooyoung's dumb, so that's why he inhales a bunch of drinks the minute he arrives as if they're oxygen, and sometimes he chats with the others too, but he stays by the bar a majority of the time and gets so freaking <em>wasted</em> he can't see straight.</p><p>It helps, though, because at least when he's drunk he can't think about the curve of San's lips or how fast his heart raced when he touched him. The liquor numbs him to the guilt that festers in his gut and <em>fuck</em>, for once, he feels like he isn't failing everyone just by being alive.</p><p>But like everything else, the sky dims and the temporary high ends, and soon enough, Wooyoung starts to feel like shit again. He knows he doesn't belong to the friend group who decided to tag him along tonight, so when he takes it upon himself to finally leave, he isn't shocked when they don't look the least bit affected.</p><p>He manages to hail a cab in his state, and by the time he gets dropped off a street away from San's manor, he feels a little more sober.</p><p>When Wooyoung enters the vicinity, he spends about thirty seconds fumbling with the passcode, too distracted to notice some of the indoor lights are on.</p><p>Once he staggers in, he freezes as soon as he spots Choi San himself standing right in front of him. His pulse picks up.</p><p>"...Wooyoung," San says, fisting the hem of his white shirt. The livingroom lights are off, his face only illuminated by the one in the kitchen. And, guessing by what Wooyoung can see, he doesn't look too happy. "Where did you go?"</p><p>Wooyoung makes a move to the right, but has to stop himself before he loses his footing and falls on his ass. "Nowhere," he deadpans, squeezing his eyes shut at the mild pain that pinches back of his head.</p><p>"<em>Nowhere</em>," San repeats, jaws clenched. His arms are crossed, trying to appear like some domineering parent, and frankly it kind of pisses Wooyoung off. "It's past two in the <em>morning</em>."</p><p><em>Fuck, I was out for that long?</em> Wooyoung thinks, but thankfully doesn't voice it out. Instead, he attempts sidestepping San, but the older quickly grabs his arm, preventing him from leaving.</p><p>"Let me go," Wooyoung spits. But, considering how slurred his words come out, he's <em>pretty</em> sure he doesn't sound the least bit threatening.</p><p>San's face falls. "Did you drink?"</p><p>"Let go!" Wooyoung growls, slapping San's hand off. San holds him again, and it <em>infuriates</em> him, because his grip is so fucking tight that it reminds him of his father. "<em>Let go, San</em>."</p><p>San obeys, and Wooyoung takes the chance to rush inside his room. San chases after him.</p><p>"You're fucking <em>drunk</em>, Wooyoung," San hisses. "How much did you take?"</p><p>Wooyoung completely ignores him, pulling off his coat.</p><p>"<em>Answer me</em>, Wooyoung."</p><p>"I don't owe you <em>anything</em>," Wooyoung snaps, unable to help how whiny he sounds. "You're not my <em>mom</em>."</p><p>"How'd you get home? Why didn't you call one of the drivers? Why did you have to stay out so late?" San keeps hurtling question after question at Wooyoung, and he continues to ignore every single one. It angers San as much as it angers him, Wooyoung can tell, so when San has enough and gets so close that their foreheads nearly touch, eyes narrowed and sharp, he isn't all too surprised.</p><p>"How much did you drink, Wooyoung?" San asks, voice low and measured.</p><p>"Why would I answer you?" Wooyoung says. "When you never answered my text messages?"</p><p>"This is <em>different</em>, Wooyoung."</p><p>"No it's not!" Wooyoung unbuckles his belt and slips out of his jeans, feeling San's eyes on him the entire time.</p><p>"...What are you doing?"</p><p>"Undressing. Ever heard of it?" Wooyoung sounds so <em>petty </em>right now, but he doesn't care. Not when San deserves it.</p><p>He kicks off the fabric and falls into his bed, aware of how his boxer briefs expose more than half of his legs. San practically <em>eyeballing</em> them doesn't affect him as much as he thought it would; or maybe it's the alcohol.</p><p>"Wooyoung," San pleads, "stop ignoring me."</p><p>Wooyoung unbuttons his shirt until it bunches down his shoulders, pretending he doesn't notice San's unfaltering stares tracing over his skin.</p><p>"Stop it."</p><p>Wooyoung grips the material of his black singlet as if he plans on pulling it over his head. "Stop what?"</p><p>San shuts the space between them, hands on his fists. His touch sends heat spiralling into Wooyoung's chest. "Stop... stop whatever it is you're doing."</p><p>"I'm only taking off my clothes," Wooyoung breathes. Butterflies swarm his stomach when he catches San watching his lips. "If you have that much of a problem with it, then leave."</p><p>San doesn't, and for a moment, there's silence, filled with nothing but their haggard breaths.</p><p>"I'm sorry for not replying your texts," San says, but Wooyoung isn't in the mood to hear his apologies.</p><p>Instead, he rests against his bed, and lowers a hand into his boxers.</p><p>San immediately reacts, eyes widening. "Wooyoung -- "</p><p>A chill runs down Wooyoung's spine at how cold his hand feels wrapped around him, and he sucks in a breath, trying to get more used to the sensation.</p><p>San's eyes are dark; <em>so dark</em> Wooyoung can see himself in them. The man reaches for his hands, lips opening in alarm. "W-Wooyoung, please stop."</p><p>Wooyoung's breath stutters, lip pulled between his teeth as his thumb swirls over the tip of his dick, staring right at San through hooded eyes.</p><p>San's eyes never drop from his face, and it's <em>intoxicating</em>, more potent and addictive than all the drinks Wooyoung downed tonight.</p><p>"Wooyoung, don't...don't do this," San licks his lips, pupils enlarged. "You're -- you're drunk and you're gonna regret it -- "</p><p>Wooyoung grabs San's hand and lands it on his crotch. "Touch me."</p><p>San gulps, looking away. "Wooyoung..."</p><p>"<em>Just do it,</em>" Wooyoung begs. San's constant refusal is driving him nuts, because right now, he wants nothing more than for the other to touch him. "Need...need to know that what I'm feeling isn't just in my head."</p><p>San bites his lip, conflicted. But the desire on his face is as clear as day. His hands cup Wooyoung's hips, shy and cautious at first, but then he gently pulls off his boxer briefs.</p><p>Wooyoung's chest pulsates with warmth at San's hand now on his cock, and his hips instinctively buckle, grinding into the older's palm.</p><p>San's strokes are soft, even, and with each one, Wooyoung's breathing grows more laboured. San's eyes drink him in, brimming with lust as he hastens his strokes, and he feels himself harden.</p><p>Wooyoung grips the back of San's hair when the older man slowly sinks his head on his cock, his warm, wet mouth easily taking it in. Wooyoung releases a drawn out moan at the contact, pleasure building up inside him. It feels so <em>good</em>; San's lips on him, planting feather-light, heated kiss down his length.</p><p>"H-Hyung..." He stammers, and as if it's intentional, San swallows more of him as if he's <em>made</em> for it. San's tongue laps up at the skin, sucking him so tenderly, his dark eyes peering up at him the entire time, and hell, Wooyoung's never felt this amazing in a while.</p><p>He starts thrusting, slowly at first, wanting more <em>friction</em>, and San goes with the flow, bobbing his head up and down without gagging at all.</p><p>"I -- I'm going to cum," Wooyoung warns, vision fizzing at the edges as San continues sucking him, kissing him, <em>deep-throating</em><em> him</em>. He pants as his dick empties out, and San remains steady, swallowing all of him.</p><p>San's eyes are glazed, pupils enlarged, and the pink that flushes his cheeks makes him look far too innocent considering what he'd just done.</p><p>San doesn't stop there, though. He continues kissing Wooyoung's cock, moving up his thighs like he's committing every bit of him to memory until he reaches his navel. It makes the younger squirm, heart thumping against his ribcage like a wild animal.</p><p>Wooyoung spots the bulge visible on the older's trousers, and he meets San's gaze.</p><p>"That doesn't look too comfortable," he begins, but San shakes his head.</p><p>"Woo, you don't need to do anything," he argues, lips redder than usual and black hair messy from the time Wooyoung had tugged at it. The sight alone makes his length throb. <em>I made him that way. </em></p><p>"Let me help you out with that." Wooyoung doesn't have to play stubborn much longer, he realizes, because San gives in to him a moment later, his lean, muscled body like putty under him. Wooyoung doesn't waste time ridding him of his clothing.</p><p>He freezes at the sight of the jagged scar that stretches down San's right shoulder, stopping right at his armpit, but San's eyes are squeezed shut, lost in his touches, so Wooyoung ultimately decides to not say a word on it. For now.</p><p>San groans, high in pitch and heavenly as Wooyoung runs his fingers down his dripping shaft, a bit awed by how thick and warm it is. This is all so <em>new</em> to him, and he's <em>sure</em> it's obvious he's never done this before, but that doesn't seem to matter when San moans with every pump, looking like a dream.</p><p>"I've never given anyone a blowjob before," Wooyoung confesses, blood rushing to his cheeks at the outright <em>dirty</em> sounds that leave San's mouth. They mess with his mind, getting him inexplicably hard.</p><p>"It's okay," San exhales, watching him with starry eyes. "Just -- just keep doing what you're doing. It's enough for me."</p><p>Unwanted voices simmer at the corners of Wooyoung's mind, screaming and yelling at him to <em>stop</em>. But he pays them no mind, and decides he'll deal with them later.</p><p>San lets out a particularly loud gasp when Wooyoung straddles him. Chest rapidly rising and falling, he grips Wooyoung's waist while the younger performs languid, purposeful thrusts, rubbing their cocks together.</p><p>San pulls Wooyoung's singlet over his head, and then their chests collide, San's mouth on his nipple as he lazily nibbles on the nub.</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't have the chance to feel self-conscious of his body, because in the next second he's arching into the older's arms, breathy moans escaping him with every sensual kiss San sucks onto his exposed skin. He kisses everywhere <em>but</em> his lips, but Wooyoung doesn't mind. In fact, he <em>prefers</em> it that way.</p><p>San <em>never</em> lets him go once, kissing and sucking and biting everywhere imaginable, and even when he cums, shoulders relaxing and his hair matted with sweat, he still clings to Wooyoung, painting the slope of his neck with tender love bites.</p><p>"We...we should get cleaned up and take a shower," Wooyoung can barely formulate his words. His world's been rocked upside down in ways he never would've envisioned, and all he wants to do is to fall into Sleep's embrace.</p><p>"Soon..." San looks at him, something earnest in his eyes. It's so heavy, so <em>intense</em> that Wooyoung has to look away. "Let's just...stay like this for a while."</p><p>"My bed's all soiled now," Wooyoung says, but he's quietly laughing, in disbelief of everything that'd just taken place between him and San.</p><p>"It'll get cleaned later." San smiles broadly at him, and he freaking <em>blushes</em>.</p><p>"I can feel your dick on my thigh." Wooyoung looks down as if to confirm, chuckling when San nudges him. "...This is <em>so weird</em>."</p><p>San's smile lessens. "Weird?"</p><p>"Like -- it's weird in a <em>good</em> way. I think," Wooyoung clarifies. His eyes fall on the older's scar, and he gulps. "I feel good." And he <em>does</em>, his heartbeat still erratic from what went down.</p><p>That answer seems to satisfy San, because he pulls him closer, arms wrapped around him. Wooyoung's chest constricts as San kisses his hair, then his neck, and finally his cheek.</p><p><em>I care a lot for you</em>, is what his actions convey. It makes Wooyoung's heart warm.</p><p>Tonight's certainly a night he won't ever forget.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. choi san is a survivor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>t</em>
  <em>w: mentions of drug use</em>
  <em> and self harm</em>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>* * *<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>
      <em>《 i did a lot of bad things</em>
    </b>
    <br/>
    <b>
      <em>how could i not have failed? 》</em>
    </b>
    <br/>
  </p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>As long as Choi San could remember, he'd always done things without thinking them through enough, or without caring enough about the consequences of his actions. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Impulsivity was his middle name, and no matter what people thought, or what they said about him behind his back, he did what he wanted -- even when he knew he was most likely going to get caught.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>It wasn't always this bad, however. When he'd been a kid, he did all the dumb things that other children also did, like sneaking out of the house, throwing tantrums, defying all forms of authority and the like. It was <em>fun</em>, especially when he discovered from a young age that he could get away with more things than other kids, simply because his family had more <em>wealth</em> than they did.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>It had always been him, his father and his older brother from the start. He'd known nothing of his mother, since supposedly he had just been a baby when she died, and all he knew about her came from the sparse information he'd been given from his dad. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>And for a few years, he was content with what he'd been given, not really finding the need to discover more about a woman who'd never been present in his life. But, once he became a teen and his rebellious streak started to become something akin to an old friend, the curiosity about who she <em>really</em> was took ahold of him.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>The drive to know more about his mother wasn't an entirely selfless act though; he was suddenly overcame with the need to figure out who he was and where he came from, so when his father decided to get more shrewd about sharing information about her to his son -- even his <em>brother</em> sided with him -- San eventually took matters into his own hands.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>He soon wished he'd never done that in the first place.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Turned out his 'mother' wasn't actually his <em>mother</em>. No, <em>she'd</em> died a long time ago a few years after his older brother was born. His actual mother was one he had no idea of, a meagre shadow who'd dumped him in a shelter without even an ounce of a goodbye. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>He'd been <em>adopted</em>. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Of course, the news shouldn't have shocked San as much as it actually did. He'd known from the start how little he resembled his dad and brother, but he'd just chalked it up to him looking more like his dead mother than anything else. He was even luckier than most orphans, as not every baby had the opportunity to get adopted by an up-and-coming successful businessman, so obviously, San <em>should've </em>been thankful. Grateful, even. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>But, San took it the wrong way. It fucked with his head, so much so he spent his every waking second wondering what was so <em>wrong</em> with him to get rejected by the one person who was supposed to cherish and care for him. And, coupled with San's reduced tolerance for rules and his crippling teenage angst, thus began his affinity for staying out of the house until late at night, hanging out with the other snobby privileged kids at school with sticks up their asses, as well as getting into more and more arguments with his father and brother. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Everything and everyone became a thousand times more irritating to San, and he just couldn't deal with it all. Waking up and having to interact with others grew into a hassle, and he honestly hated it.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Why did you have to come right now? This is the <em>third time</em> this week alone, San." Furrowed eyes ignited with a flare of worry and cautiousness stared right at San through the dark, hidden under the canopy of her parents' large fortress.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>San shoved his hands into his ripped balenciaga jeans, mostly to hide how much they were shaking. He looked at the blue haired girl in front of him, his features hardening into a frown. "Don't pretend to give a crap now, Ryan. I <em>always</em> pay up on time."<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Ryan's brows knitted, rubbing the sleeves of her silk night coat in order to fend off the steepening winter cold. For a second, San felt a little guilty for calling her so late at night, but he just couldn't resist. This week had been a particularly draining one, and he seriously needed his fix before he fully lost it.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"San... you know the more you take them, the higher the chances of you getting addicted," Ryan said, pursing her lips when San shortened the distance between them. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Pass them over, Ry," San whispered, opting to use the nickname he'd made for her when they first met over a year ago. He always used it whenever he needed something from her. And, guessing by the way her round, amber eyes softened, gaze shifting from his face to his hands on her elbow, San knew he'd gotten through to her. "You know I always pay you well..."<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Of course, she knew more than anyone else the liking San had developed for certain drugs. Opioids, LSD, weed; the whole nine yards. San wasn't stupid; he knew of all their side effects and the fucked up things they could do to people who abused them, and as a result never ordered doses that would make what he was doing obvious. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>He never knew where Ryan got her supply from, all he knew was that she <em>always</em> delivered, and on time too.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Stay safe, alright?" Ryan advised as soon as the transaction had been made. Her eyes were still narrowed, the worry glinting in them never leaving. "Wouldn't want your father and Jongho finding out, hm?"<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"A drug dealer not wanting me getting addicted to drugs? That's a new one, especially when you were the one who introduced them to me in the first place," San answered, a teasing smirk on his lips. Ryan, however, did not seem to think any of what he said was funny.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Where are you going?" She asked, her voice hushed. Her parents were fast asleep after all, unaware of their daughter's favourite pastime. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Hyunjin's hosting this party that apparently <em>everyone</em> in his friend group is obligated to attend," San said, skimming over the bagged drugs before zipping his backpack closed and hiding them from view. "Don't really wanna go, but I've got nothing better to do now, so."<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>That wasn't entirely a lie. It was either a party filled with rich kids whose personalities equated to that of a dry wall, or getting stuck alone in his dull house mulling over school work that, despite him almost always acing, made him want to just gouge his eyes out.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"You know you can always come to me if you're feeling lonely, San," Ryan replied. Her worried tone dissipated, making way for something a little lighter; something a little more <em>playful</em>. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>San could pick up on her interest; it was something she'd felt for him ever since they became friends. And she wasn't the only one either. San was no stranger to the longing glances ushered his way by the other students his age, a majority of them girls, and sometimes, San would even <em>humour</em> a few of them; pretend he was interested when he just wanted to give himself something to look forward to other than the drugs. Something to make him <em>feel </em>things other than disappointment and internal pain. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>But, this was <em>Ryan</em>, one of the <em>very few</em> people he'd managed to sustain some semblance of a friendship with. San couldn't ruin his relationship with her over a fling he'd have no heart in anyway. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>In fact, he'd never liked girls like that, but falling for a <em>boy</em> was out of the question, considering his circumstances. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>So, San just flashed her a faint smile. "I gotta go Ry."<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Right." Ryan's defeat was obvious, but San was so used to it that he never let it bother him. Better that than to lead her on and lose her friendship and all the things she offered him. "See you later, then."<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>San snuck out of her house the same way he entered; through the back and over the trees where the cctv cameras would never spot him. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>It was freezing so hard tonight, the chill slipping in through San's thick sweater and lathering his body with goosebumps that would be annoying to get rid of. Sometimes, when the night got dark and the roads became empty, San often wondered if what he was doing was really worth it. But then he'd take his first hit, get lost in the satisfying high of not having a single care in the world, and then he'd remember just how beneficial all those drugs were. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>They made him loose, made him <em>happier</em>. Although they were only artificial and lasted temporarily, San craved them. They were his gateway to relaxation, the tightrope that steadied him whilst everything else shattered to smithereens. They made it easier to talk to others; made his burdens not as difficult to carry. San wasn't addicted, but he didn't know if he'd survive if they suddenly vanished from his life. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>San entered Hyunjin's so called party around an hour later, and spent his time there getting high and getting more buzzed then he'd ever gotten in his seventeen years of living. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>It was when he'd been playing pool with some of his guy 'friends' that Hyunjin himself, red faced and pulsing with irritation, showed up at his side and gripped his arm so tight it <em>hurt</em>.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"<em>What the fuck, Hyunjin</em>?" San snapped, roughly smacking the boy's hand off of him. He wasn't scared of the guy, as this wasn't the first time he'd gotten pissed at him for no apparent reason. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Thought this was supposed to be a <em>private</em> meetup," Hyunjin sneered right next to his ear, an uncharacteristic sort of anger dripping off his tone. "So what the fuck is your <em>brother</em> doing here?"<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>San pushed past the fuming boy without a single second to spare, stomach twisting with nausea at the thought of Jongho being at this place, considering the disasterous states the other students must've been in. <em>How the hell did he even know where I </em><em>went to</em>?<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Fortunately, little people paid him any mind as he briskly dashed out of the Hwang residence, his nike sneakers digging into the neat lawn. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>A few feet away, next to his black Jaguar stood Jongho, looking nothing less than imposing with his crossed arms, serious expression and his expensive tailored suit. San <em>despised</em> the sight of him.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"What are you <em>doing</em> here?" San hissed, marching over the pavement to where Jongho stood. His fury further deepened when he had to look up at the man as a result of his taller height.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"I should be asking you that instead." Jongho's voice was cool, hardly stirred by San's outburst, but his eyes reflected concern. They lingered on his younger brother's face, observing him. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>San looked away, his heartbeat harsh against his ribcage. "<em>Leave</em>."<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"You're coming with me, and that's <em>final</em>," Jongho replied. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>San scoffed, trying to act all nonchalant about the situation. But all he could hear was his hard <em>thump thump</em> of his heart, thumbnails busy picking away at the tender skin of his fingers inside his pockets. "Sorry, but you aren't the boss of me. Get the fuck out of here."<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Jongho kept staring at him, and San <em>hated</em> it. It was like he could <em>read him</em>, down to his very last breath, and that was one quality of his adoptive brother that made San apprehensive of him. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"I said <em>leave</em>!" San yelled, taking a step back. "And don't come back. I don't want you here."<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Jongho's stoic mask broke, giving way to the despair underneath. It had San shocked at first, allowing the older to grab his wrist and tug him towards his car.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Let go!" San roared, trying to rip the man's fingers off his skin.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Look at your <em>eyes</em>, San," Jongho countered, gaze darkening with something that looked close to disappointment. "They're bloodshot, and your pupils are fucking <em>blown</em>. You think I haven't noticed how pale you've gotten these days, San? How much weight you've lost? For Christ's sake, you smell like booze and <em>weed</em>. What if people found out? What if it got back to dad?"<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"I don't give a shit what he thinks," San replied, as defiant as always. This time though, it appeared Jongho was <em>not</em> having it. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Get in the car."<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"No."<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"<em>Get</em> in the car, San."<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Get lost hyung! I fucking hate you!" San barked, finally losing his cool. He just couldn't <em>take</em> it anymore. He <em>knew</em> he was being a huge fucking brat; the rowdy and unstable black sheep that tainted the Choi name. He knew what others said about him, knew about how absolutely <em>perfect</em> and proper his older brother was in comparison to him, and he was sick and tired of it. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>He just wanted Choi Jongho to <em>get out</em> of his life!<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"You're angry, and for this reason -- as well as the fact that you're my brother -- I won't say a word of it to dad," Jongho spoke. His calm words brought a fresh set of tears to San's eyes. "But you're leaving with me tonight. And just so you know, I've completely lost all my trust in you."<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>That night, San felt his heart break for the first time.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>And now, as San's eyes flicker open, bare arms reaching out to nothing on Wooyoung's cold, empty bed, he feels the same, the dead butterflies in his gut choking him to pieces.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>San sits up before the hurt can get too unbearable, pausing when he spots the folded clothes sitting at the edge of the bed. Instantly, San remembers him and Wooyoung showering the night before, both males much too tired and spent to put on some clothes before finally going to sleep. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>So Wooyoung's actions, albeit how small, cause San's heart to grow full. Intentional or not, he can't help but bring Wooyoung's shirt up to his nose, inhaling the younger's homely, woody scent. It makes him feel warm inside, his heart skipping a beat at the sensation.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>With San just being slightly taller than Wooyoung and more muscly, the younger's clothes fit him well, the soft fabric dulling his frantic, racing thoughts. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Ignoring the light weight of the ugly pink scar marring his shoulder blade, he steps out of Wooyoung's room intent on finding the other male. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>With everything that'd gone down last night, San was a bit <em>nervous</em> to see the younger. What if Wooyoung doesn't remember what happened? What if he regrets everything? What if their friendship -- or whatever relationship they had at this point -- takes a hit because of their reckless decision? It almost drives San <em>crazy</em> thinking about it, because no matter how hard he tries to convince himself otherwise, if Wooyoung rejects him and doesn't speak to him again because of what they did, it will <em>destroy</em> him.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>San clears his throat when he heads down the hall, anxious when he doesn't see Wooyoung anywhere he looks. <em>It's gonna be okay</em>, he keeps thinking, keeps telling himself, even when a part of him knows that most likely won't be the case. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"...Wooyoung?" He speaks out loud, turning the corner. Right now, he wishes the house was on the smaller side so he wouldn't have to worry himself shitless over finding the younger. God, he hates this. "Hey, Woo? Uhm, are you there?"<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>If this was a few years ago, San would have no problems raising his voice. He'd even get a little pissed at Wooyoung not responding on time to him, but that was the thing: San <em>wasn't</em> half the person he'd been before. He's <em>different</em> now, and it's sad it took something tragic happening for him to realize the error of his ways.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Before he can have the chance to get trapped in his thoughts of the past, someone new walks down the spiralling staircase, their footsteps causing San to abruptly halt his movement.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Donned in a long grey sweater, a black shirt and pyjama bottoms, and fuzzy slippers, is Wooyoung. His dark hair falls over his forehead instead of the typical side-part he usually has it in, his unique coloured eyes shimmering vibrantly underneath. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>San feels his breath get caught in his throat. "Hey."<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung smiles, but his eyes are insincere; <em>jarring</em>. They're also beautiful, the mere sight of them causing San's heart to squeeze. "Hey."<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"What were you doing upstairs?" San decides to ask, noting how Wooyoung hasn't once moved from his initial position. <em>It's nothing</em>, San tells himself over and over.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Uh... Washing my face?" Wooyoung clears his throat, his soft voice sending heat crawling up San's neck. Sounds of him moaning enter San's head at that moment, and he has to look away before Wooyoung can notice all the blood rushing to his cheeks. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"I, um, saw all the beauty products you got me," Wooyoung continues, unaware of San's less than innocent thoughts. His eyes widen as he chews his lower lip. "Sorry if you were like, planning to surprise me with them."<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"<em>No</em>," San laughs, a little too quickly and a little too high-pitched. He places a hand on his chest, cringing at how <em>loud</em> his heart feels. "It's okay. I'm not mad or anything. Do you like them?"<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>He braves a glance Wooyoung's way, relief swirling within him at the younger's upward quirk of his lips. God, it's moments like these that San is reminded of how outrageously <em>pretty</em> Wooyoung is. He's so beautiful, from his silky soft hair to his turquoise-brown eyes to his sweet voice, even down to the mole under his left eye. San loves his boyish charm, his subdued genuine smiles, and the corny jokes he cracks ever so often. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Whatever Wooyoung does or says has San's entire world turned on its axis, and hell, the more time he spends with the younger, the more San <em>falls </em>for him.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>And the harder he tries to stay afloat and prevent himself from catching feelings, the harder he falls. At this point, there's no hope for him, not when he's drowning in Wooyoung without any source of escape.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"I like them," Wooyoung answers, digging his hands into his pockets. Finally, he reaches the end of the staircase, moving until he's only a couple inches away from San.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>San forces on a smile, despite how heavy and painful his heart feels lodged in his chest. He's stalling -- <em>they both are</em> -- trying to postpone the inevitable. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>What they did with each other the previous night hangs in the air, turning the silent atmosphere into something so stifling and strange and <em>awkward</em>. San doesn't like it, but he doesn't know how to proceed. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Heard from Hongjoong hyung you went to visit your family for Christmas," Wooyoung says, the first to attempt breaking the tense atmosphere. <br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Yeah." San looks at the spotless marble flooring, wanting to quickly change the subject. "It was nice."<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Oh." A brief look at Wooyoung reveals the man doesn't really believe what he says. That's the scary thing about him; his ability to pick others apart and discern their true motives. San doesn't think the younger even realizes what he's doing at times.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>It reminds him of his brother, and San has to clench his fists to stop himself from having a breakdown.<br/></p>
</div><p><br/>"I'm sorry I didn't reply those messages you sent me," San adds, before the pressure to say the truth can get to him. Memories of him huddled up at the air conditioned hospital with Yunho at his side, gripping onto his phone for dear life as he read through Wooyoung's texts with tears fogging his vision burn themselves behind his eyelids, and he gulps. "I... I wasn't in the best state of mind back then."</p>
<p>Now it's <em>Wooyoung's</em> turn to look down. Something like guilt settles over his expression. "I'm sorry."</p>
<p><em>Don't freak out, don't freak out, don't freak out</em>. San's palms tremble. "For what?"</p>
<p>"For... for what I said," Wooyoung replies. "I cut you off, only for us to -- " he looks up, meeting San's eye. "Only for us to <em>do</em> what we did last night, confusing things further. <em>Fuck</em>, I'm such a despicable prick."</p>
<p>"You're not a prick," San answers, stepping in before he has the chance to think better of it. His hands are on Wooyoung's arms, the younger obviously avoiding his gaze.</p>
<p>"I'm a piece of shit," Wooyoung continues his verbal self jab, and it affects San as if <em>he</em> were the one being addressed instead. "What is <em>wrong</em> with me?"</p>
<p>"<em>Nothing's</em> wrong with you, okay?" San thinks of the days spent at the doctors' and the at psychiatrist's office, having to regain the movement in his joints and answer a thousand questions in order to try and diagnose everything screwed up with him. He remembers it being an absolutely <em>horrible</em> time of his life, something he won't even wish on his greatest enemy. "Stop saying that to yourself."</p>
<p>"I <em>used</em> you."</p>
<p>Something quite similar to despair strikes San right then. It's like a punch to his stomach, leaving him fumbling for air. Despite himself, he holds Wooyoung close to him, feeling the younger sink into his touch.</p>
<p>"You didn't use me." Every word is like a sharp needle, puncturing a thousand holes into him. "I knew what I was doing last night. I take responsibility for it."</p>
<p>Wooyoung's breathing is quick and shallow on San's shoulder, and he only starts calming down when the older man runs his fingers through his hair.</p>
<p>"I led you on."</p>
<p>"Do you regret it?" How San manages to keep his voice leveled and emotionless whilst he's breaking apart on the inside, he doesn't know. "Do you regret...letting me touch you? Do you regret letting me hold you and do all the things I did to you?"</p>
<p>San is <em>terrified</em> of Wooyoung's answer. How could he not, when just Wooyoung's earlier disapproval of them kissing broke his heart a million times over? But, he <em>has</em> to know. He has to know if there's actually a point to him hoping that somehow Wooyoung returns what he feels for him. No matter how much it frightens him, San has to know if Wooyoung feels the same way.</p>
<p>It's hard to describe what Wooyoung's thinking of at that moment in time, but when he stares up at San, eyes watery and a shaky smile tugging at the corners of his lips, San already knows his answer.</p>
<p>"Woo..." San doesn't get another word in, because Wooyoung tiptoes and kisses him straight on the lips.</p>
<p>It's only a peck at first, but Wooyoung kisses him again, <em>deeper</em> this time. San's heart <em>soars</em>.</p>
<p>Wooyoung rests his head over San's right shoulder, thumb grazing the area where San's scar resides. It makes the older shiver.</p>
<p>"Wooyoung," San can't contain his happiness, "are you <em>serious</em>? Are you -- is this real? I -- I mean, you <em>did</em> just kiss me, but -- "</p>
<p>Wooyoung folds his arms around San's neck, and <em>fuck</em>, San falls for him a little more. "I...think I <em>like</em> you, hyung."</p>
<p>San releases a breathy chuckle, chest overflowing with warmth. He clings more to Wooyoung, because he fears that this is all a dream and once he lets go, he'll be back to reality, pining over a man who'll never love him the way he does.</p>
<p><em>I like you too Wooyoung. So, so much</em>, San wants to say, wants to scream out through the rooftops, but his voice has failed him. So instead, he continues holding on to Wooyoung with every last bone in his body, never wanting to let go.</p>
<p>"In fact, I...I'm <em>sure</em> I like you," Wooyoung continues, his fingers anxiously fisting the surface of (his) San's shirt. "<em>But</em>."</p>
<p>"B-But?" San sounds so small and <em>pathetic</em>, he wants to strangle himself.</p>
<p>"I've never been in a relationship before. I've never been with a <em>guy</em> before, either," Wooyoung admits, facing hidden in the slope of San's neck. "In fact, you're... you're the first person who's ever <em>kissed</em> me. Sounds pretty sad, but I'm telling the truth."</p>
<p>"But look at <em>you</em>. How did no one ever want to be with you? They were probably blinded by how much of a catch you really are." San aims for a joke after he notices the <em>sorrow</em> in Wooyoung's voice. "They don't know what they're missing."</p>
<p>Wooyoung quietly laughs. "Thanks, I guess. Anyway," he clears his throat, hands trailing down to San's waist. "I have <em>zero</em> experience in the dating world. None. And -- and you being you, I...guess I really don't know how this is going to work out, honestly."</p>
<p>"...Me being what?" San chooses to ask, even when they both know what Wooyoung's referring to.</p>
<p>Wooyoung sighs. "You're a <em>CEO</em>, San, even when it's hard to believe at times. Our paths would <em>never</em> have crossed if not for Hongjoong connecting us. That's how <em>different</em> our lives are. I just -- I don't know. <em>I don't know</em>."</p>
<p>San wishes reality would just cease to exist. All he wants is Wooyoung; all he wants is to hold him, kiss him, <em>love him</em>. He wants to love Wooyoung and make him his, wants to <em>be</em> with the younger without any sort of judgement thrown their way, but San knows better than to wish for the impossible. Fuck, he hates this <em>so much</em>.</p>
<p>"We'll get through it. Together," San assures, even with internal agony he's experiencing. "Let's not worry about that now, hm? It's only two days after Christmas, and New Years is coming up. We'll... we will be fine, Wooyoung-ah."</p>
<p>With how things are going, it isn't set in stone just how <em>true</em> San's promise would turn out to be, but San hopes Wooyoung will believe in it. Hopes Wooyoung will believe in <em>them</em>.</p>
<p>"We'll be fine," Wooyoung reiterates, pulling away to stare into San's eyes. And, San can't help it. He frames the shorter's face in his hands, leaning in so their foreheads touch. "We'll be alright."</p>
<p>San nods, thumb stroking Wooyoung's cheek. "Mhm."</p>
<p>"I-I got something for you," Wooyoung suddenly states, letting San go to point at hall. "It's in my room.</p>
<p>San leaves one arm around Wooyoung's hips, the other playing with a strand of his hair. "Really? What is it?"</p>
<p>Wooyoung's neck flushes. "You'll know after we eat breakfast."</p>
<p>"But I wanna see it <em>now</em>!" San huffs like a kid, mostly because he <em>can</em>. Wooyoung's never reacted badly to him behaving much younger than his age, so he's grown more comfortable expressing himself to the younger. It's just one of the many, many things that attracts San to him.</p>
<p>Wooyoung shushes him, making his way to the kitchen. San trails along like a lost puppy, the urge to <em>hold</em> him again too large to resist.</p>
<p>San's rarely ever felt like this for any other guy. Flings and a couple <em>very</em> private one-night-stands were more his thing, but Wooyoung... Wooyoung makes him want to give all the love he has to offer.</p>
<p>"What should we eat for breakfast since Mingi isn't here?" Wooyoung thinks out loud, rubbing his chin. "Maybe I should message him, let him give me a few ideas and -- <em>S-San</em>?"</p>
<p>San hugs Wooyoung from behind, arms secure around his waist, and instantly the younger man relaxes into him. San shifts even closer, kissing up to his ear. His insides purr in contentment at the velvety moan that escapes Wooyoung's mouth.</p>
<p>"What are you doing?" Wooyoung questions.</p>
<p>"I love holding you."</p>
<p>"Weird change of topic." Wooyoung chuckles, but his shoulders are stiff. "Sandwiches sound good. We should make sandwiches."</p>
<p>San blinks. Although Wooyoung doesn't comment on it, it's clear he's a bit restless.</p>
<p>"Am I..." San pauses, staring at Wooyoung's rigid posture. "Am I making you uncomfortable with the touching? If I am, <em>please</em> tell me. I'll stop."</p>
<p>Wooyoung bites his lip. "...A little. I mean -- that's <em>my</em> problem, not yours. I'm just not used to this sort of affection, you see."</p>
<p>"Oh."</p>
<p>Wooyoung turns to face San. "I'll get used to it soon, don't worry."</p>
<p>"It's okay, though. No pressure." San knows he has to restrain himself to not come off so <em>clingy</em>, but it's extremely difficult especially when whenever he looks at Wooyoung he has the urge to never let him out of his sight. He has to <em>chill</em>.</p>
<p>Wooyoung grins, showcasing faint dimples, and San's heart skips a beat. "Thank you." He opens the pantry and pulls out a bag of sliced bread. "We should hurry. I'm kinda hungry."</p>
<p>"Same." San stands next to the younger, watching the way his delicate hands pull out all the necessary ingredients needed for the sandwiches. "Should I bake some muffins too, while we're at it?"</p>
<p>Panic flashes in Wooyoung's eyes. "Bake?"</p>
<p>"Yeah. Remember when I made you those cupcakes for your birthday?" San smiles, closely observing Wooyoung's expression. Of course, he knew of how <em>atrocious</em> those cupcakes were after taking the extra one for himself once Wooyoung left for his classes. Why Wooyoung would lie to spare his feelings San has no idea of, but it just furthered San's fondness for him. "They were good. You <em>said</em> they were. So, I figured I should try out muffins too -- "</p>
<p>"No!" Wooyoung yells. "I mean -- <em>nah</em>. Sandwiches are enough. No need for anything else."</p>
<p>"Sure, sure," San answers, smirking to himself.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>* * *<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>A hasty, noiseless breakfast and teeth-brushing later, San is seated on the leather couch with Wooyoung on his lap, playing with the lovely snow globe he gifted him.<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Don't know what you're saying. It's so <em>pretty</em>," San compliments, glancing down at Wooyoung. "Doesn't look cheap at all."<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung shrugs. "You like it?"<br/></p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Do I? I <em>love</em> it." San runs his fingers over the glass, smiling at the happy family of three staring right back at him. It almost makes him tear up. "I really do..."<br/></p>
</div><p><br/>"You love everything," Wooyoung laughs, gorgeous eyes crinkling with joy.</p>
<p>"Including you." It slips out before San can stop it, but Wooyoung doesn't react to those words.</p>
<p>"I... I wanna ask you a question."</p>
<p>San places the snow globe on the table, watching the artificial sparkling snow settle over the beaming family. "Yeah?"</p>
<p>"...Your scar. I don't wanna intrude but...how did you get it?"</p>
<p>San stares ahead so he won't have to look into Wooyoung's all too inquisitive eyes. "I -- I got in an accident." His heart feels like it's exploding, ripping his ribs into pieces. His lungs ache for air, and all of a sudden, he can't smell anything other than smoke.</p>
<p>"A-Almost lost my right arm to it. I couldn't feel <em>anything</em> there for months, and I -- " San inhales sharply, "I had to get physiotherapy."</p>
<p>"Hyung."</p>
<p>"As soon as I woke up on the hospital bed after that accident, I wished I'd died instead," San continues. He grips his chest, his pounding heartbeat echoing loudly in his head.</p>
<p>"Don't say any more." Wooyoung sits up and brings him into a hug, his warm body consoling him. "That's enough."</p>
<p>San blinks to rid himself of the hot tears stabbing the corners of his eyes. "It's unsightly, huh? That scar."</p>
<p>Wooyoung kisses him, slow and steady. His lips are soft and gentle against his, instantly melting away San's sorrow. "It's not unsightly," he mutters, caressing his cheekbone.</p>
<p>San kisses him some more, his heart full and overwhelmed with several emotions.</p>
<p>Wooyoung scoots away, only for him to land his feet on San's thighs. He wriggles them. "Notice anything?"</p>
<p>"Other than how nice your feet are? <em>Nada</em>." San grins when Wooyoung playfully shoves his chest, and soon intertwines their fingers.</p>
<p>Wooyoung slides his hands down to his ankles, and that's when San sees the short pale scars scattered across his sunkissed skin.</p>
<p>He stares back at the younger, surprised.</p>
<p>"Did a lot of dumb shit at fifteen," Wooyoung speaks, his gaze on his feet. "I went through some stuff back then too. Wanted to find a way to get rid of the pain without letting someone else see."</p>
<p>"And guess what?" Wooyoung adds, cracking a somber smile. "I hardly think about them now, unless I specifically look at them. What I'm saying's that it's <em>totally okay</em> to have scars. We both experienced a few terrible things, but we got out of them alright, despite the marks they left us with. So, there's no need to be ashamed of your scar."</p>
<p>"Wooyoung..." San sounds as crushed as he feels.</p>
<p>"Don't look at me like that, San," Wooyoung shakes his head. "I'm <em>fine</em> now. At least, better than I was back then, okay?"</p>
<p>San hugs him, and before he can beat himself up for being so <em>touchy</em> again, Wooyoung returns it, arms snaking around his sides. "I'm sorry you ever had to experience that sort of sadness."</p>
<p>"It's whatever." Wooyoung peers up at him, an enthralling grin on his face. "I don't think anything about my scars, and I certainly feel the same way about yours. I mean, we saw each other naked. I've already seen everything."</p>
<p>San treasures how <em>honest</em> Wooyoung's being with him now. "Thank you."</p>
<p>"For seeing you naked?"</p>
<p>"<em>No</em>." San's face turns beet-red. "For accepting me. For keeping up with me, for liking me back, for sharing something so personal. Thank you."</p>
<p>Wooyoung looks weighed down; the way he always looks when he's at a loss for words. And, San never presses him for an answer.</p>
<p>He just holds him.<br/></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. jung wooyoung is insecure (m)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>cw: mature content</em>
  <em> in first half of chapter</em>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>
      <em>《 can't help it</em>
    </b><br/>
<b>
      <em>can't help but </em>
    </b><br/>
<b>
      <em>question everything 》</em>
    </b>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p>Wooyoung was so <em>convinced</em> as a child he'd had some type of fear showing his body. As long as he could remember, he'd preferred changing separately instead of with others when p.e came around, and even felt like he was doing something wrong whenever he went to the beach or a public pool and had to take his shirt off.</p><p>Turned out, there was a name for that. <em>Gymnophobia</em>, it was called, or the Fear of Nudity. After that hasty Google search that confirmed his insecurities, Wooyoung spent the upcoming years avoiding any social event that contained having to show some skin.</p><p>At first, he figured it was due to all the occasional hurtful remarks about his body thrown his way by his own parents, but later on, Wooyoung soon discovered the reason he was so <em>adamant</em> on staying covered was simply because he hated himself. He reasoned that, if <em>he</em> didn't like the way he looked, others would most likely be disgusted with him.</p><p>Wooyoung harboured that thought for a long time, abiding by it because he figured it was the truth. He was disappointing to look at, and as a result <em>no one </em>else would ever look at him and think of him as beautiful.</p><p>And now, with San's hand in his hair and the other running appreciatively down the curve of his body, Wooyoung can't help but wonder what San's true intentions are.</p><p>The man's dressed in fuzzy pink pjs with red flowers on them, quite similar to the sky blue one Wooyoung's wearing. And, even though Wooyoung isn't really a big fan of pastel colours, he feels nothing less than cozy in his clothes, all wrapped up in San's warm arms.</p><p>"What are you thinking about?" San asks, the sincerity in his chocolate brown eyes causing Wooyoung to briefly stare at the windows on the side. Predictably, they're pitch black, showcasing the sheets of snow drizzling in front of them.</p><p>"I'm not thinking anything," Wooyoung answers, but it's a lie and they both know it.</p><p>San shifts closer to him, planting a soft kiss to his temple which takes him aback. San's always so touchy and <em>affectionate</em> with him, and although Wooyoung doesn't mind it, he feels unworthy of being treated like this.</p><p>"You have a lot of things on your mind," San starts, his dimly lit bedroom casting shadows over his features. But even in the dark, Wooyoung can spot the raw thirst in his gaze. "I can help you get your mind off it."</p><p>Wooyoung's heart races in anticipation, but he decides to humour the older. "Well, how are you gonna do that?"</p><p>San shoots him a beaming smile as his hands slip past the younger's top, stroking the flesh underneath, and for a second, a twinge of panic at the older man being so <em>intimately</em> near forces its way through. It doesn't last however, not when San keeps staring at him as if he's the most marvelous thing to grace the universe.</p><p>The buttons of Wooyoung's shirt are undone before he knows it, and San's lips are on his, kissing him with so much passion and sweetness; like he's savouring the taste of him.</p><p>It sends Wooyoung's head spinning, his heart once again feeling too full for his body to contain. San kisses him so <em>amazingly</em>, lips sucking and trailing down his torso in such a way that makes his toes curl in pleasure.</p><p>San's touches turn needier, but the gentleness is still there, and Wooyoung has to restrain himself from shivering when San begins stroking him, his other hand cupping his ass.</p><p>Wooyoung's dick instantly hardens, so stiff it's almost painful, but he doesn't get the chance to linger on how <em>exposed</em> he feels because San kisses him again, taking his breath away. He moans out loud, melting right under San as the man nips on his earlobe, and he has to remind himself time and time again that the older isn't put off or repelled by what he sees.</p><p>"Are you..." San's voice is gruff, deepened with yearning as he studies Wooyoung's whole body, eyes warm and delicate. "Will you be okay with us going further?"</p><p>In all honesty, Wooyoung doesn't <em>know</em>, but before he can come up with anything, something rings right across the wide bedroom, shrill and irritating. It makes Wooyoung all the more aware of his current position, and when San turns to look in the direction the sound's coming from, an acrid type of coldness swallows him.</p><p>"It's a call," San mutters, but his hands are still on Wooyoung's body, unwilling to let go. "I think it's Joongie."</p><p>The coldness worsens, freezing Wooyoung's insides to ice. <em>Don't answer him. Focus on me</em>, is what he wants to respond with, but he knows he has no right to say that. So instead, he sits up, bunching up the sheets to his chest and shrugs, his go-to method when he feels like pretending he's cool with something when he actually isn't.</p><p>"Go talk to him," Wooyoung says. "He probably has something important to tell you."</p><p>San doesn't waste time answering the call, Hongjoong's voice soon resounding through the walls of the bedroom.</p><p>"<em>Sannie</em><em>, hi! How are you right now?</em>"</p><p>San moves until his back's pressed against the wall, the iPad's light making his beautiful smile glow more than it already does. "Hi Joongie! And I'm great, thanks for asking. When are you coming back? There's only a few days left before New Year's."</p><p><em>"I called because I'm actually arriving back in Korea tomorrow</em>."</p><p>The pure, unadulterated excitement that flickers across San's face right then is one that amuses Wooyoung to see -- but there's also this weird, ugly emotion too that sharpens the ice in his heart, splintering it.</p><p>"<em>Really</em>?" San looks so <em>happy</em>, and Wooyoung's ashamed for even feeling that way in the first place. "When are you coming?"</p><p><em>"In the evening. Around...seven, I think</em>." Hongjoong sounds like he's smiling too, and that horrible feeling returns.</p><p>"I seriously can't wait to see you again, especially after so long," San says. His eyes follow Wooyoung as he lies next to his thigh, his thumb rubbing over the younger's cheek.</p><p>"<em>Is there someone else with you?</em>" Hongjoong asks. "<em>Is </em><em>Wooyoung</em><em> around</em>?"</p><p>Wooyoung palms San's cock through his pyjama bottoms, and the older man gasps.</p><p>Ignoring the slight nervousness that flutters in his gut, he slowly snakes a hand into San's pants, massaging his rock hard length.</p><p>"<em>Sannie</em><em>, are you okay?</em>" Hongjoong questions from the iPad, only for San to gulp, hips stuttering for much needed friction.</p><p>"I-I'm fine. I just -- " San's voice breaks when Wooyoung tugs his pants down, thumb circling over the slit of his shaft.</p><p>Wooyoung isn't really sure what he's doing -- or if <em>what</em> he's doing is okay -- but guessing by the way San's hips continuously buckle, eyes glossed over with lust, he must be doing something right.</p><p>"<em>Is something wrong</em>?" Hongjoong keeps asking, when Wooyoung wants nothing more than for him to just hang up already. "<em>I know you hate it when I say this, but I'</em><em>ve</em><em> been really worried about you lately. I care about you a lot, San, and you know I always want you to be happy</em>."</p><p>Hongjoong's somber, honest words to San make Wooyoung feel <em>worse</em>, even when he knows there isn't a real reason to feel that way.</p><p>"I care a lot about you too, Hongjoong."</p><p>Wooyoung slides his mouth over San's dick at that second, nearly causing the man to drop his iPad. His heart pounds with both excitement and apprehension, and it's <em>electrifying</em>.</p><p><em>Fuck, I guess I'm really doing this</em>, Wooyoung thinks, and for a few seconds, sheer panic consumes him because San's girthy dick is in his mouth and it's definitely a strange sensation to get used to. He eventually regains his cool however, swallowing the older's length until it reaches his throat.</p><p>It happens much quicker than Wooyoung anticipates. With a muffled slew of obscenities, San has the iPad thrown elsewhere, and then he's clutching Wooyoung's hair, deliberately thrusting into his mouth. He isn't forceful, which Wooyoung greatly appreciates, and, copying what he saw San do last night, takes the entirety of his cock before letting go, making sure San feels every last bit of it.</p><p>"<em>Fuck</em>," San curses, and it's so attractive Wooyoung feels all the blood rush into his length. "Keep going. You're -- you're doing<em> so well</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung, lightheaded from the older's compliments, keeps sucking him, cupping his balls.</p><p>"You have no idea the things I want to do to you..." San whispers, his words getting Wooyoung wet. "F-Fuck, Wooyoung."</p><p>"Do them to me, then," Wooyoung says, climbing over San. The older's eyes trace over his bare chest and naked body, hands caressing down his back. "Whatever you want..."</p><p>San turns them over, Wooyoung shivering as he spreads his legs open, stroking his member.</p><p>"I..." San mumbles, kissing the younger's neck, "I want to fuck you. So bad. But if you aren't ready, I have something else we can do."</p><p>Wooyoung bites his lip, a little anxious. His precum smears over San's fingers while the man continues to pump him. "Something else?"</p><p>San heads to one of his drawers and pulls it open, taking out what appears to be a bottle of lube. He makes his way back to where Wooyoung rests, kissing him deeply again.</p><p>"I can see you're nervous," San mutters through heated kisses, "so we won't go all the way. You're gonna be alright."</p><p>Wooyoung watches as San twists open the bottle, the enticing smile of vanilla tainting the air. His thoughts are in complete disarray as San lathers his fingers with the transparent liquid, before smoothing some over his hole.</p><p>It's terribly cold. Wooyoung's insides clench with longing.</p><p>"I'm going to finger you; stretch you out," San utters, pushing the younger's legs further apart. "It'll feel a little weird at first, I'll admit, but it'll feel a lot better soon. Trust me."</p><p>Wooyoung stiffens as one of San's fingers <em>enter</em><em>s</em> him, and the man pauses, getting him more comfortable with the foreign intrusion.</p><p>Wooyoung inhales and grinds into his hand, forcing his finger deeper. San immediately moans, Adam's apple bobbing.</p><p>"<em>Shit</em>, Woo -- " San pushes in another finger, lifting the shorter's legs over his shoulders. He slides them in and out of Wooyoung at a steady pace, and Wooyoung whimpers at the hot pleasure coiling inside his stomach. "<em>You're so tight.</em>.."</p><p>San slips his fingers out, pouring more lube over his hand as well as Wooyoung's erect cock, and then he's stroking him and fingering him at the same time, and fuck, Wooyoung tears up from how <em>amazing</em> he feels.</p><p>San goes deeper, <em>faster</em>, adding another finger. Wooyoung's muscles tense at the whole new wave of euphoria that grips him when San hits a certain <em>spot</em>, and soon enough he's cumming, releasing all the built-up pressure inside him.</p><p>But San isn't done with him yet. He leans in, and then his tongue's flicking over the rim of Wooyoung's ass, nipping at his flesh. It's unexpected, but it doesn't take long for Wooyoung to get used to it.</p><p>San palms his member while his warm tongue continues licking his hole, and Wooyoung's never felt better in his life.</p><p>Wooyoung whines when San fingers him once more, the older's dark eyes observing each and every part of him.</p><p>And San, with his long black hair framing his hooded eyes and freckled neck, and his plump, glossy lips, looks so <em>captivating</em> that Wooyoung feels like he's falling with no way of ever getting up.</p><p>What is happening to him?</p><p>San doesn't stop pleasuring him, ensuring his full satisfaction well until Wooyoung cums again, the sticky liquid dripping down his thighs and the sheets.</p><p>"You're so beautiful, Wooyoung-ah," San whispers, the love in his eyes so <em>vivid</em> it has Wooyoung's heart skipping a beat. "So goddamn beautiful."</p><p>And in that moment, Wooyoung allows himself to believe him.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p><br/>
Everywhere Wooyoung looks, he's met with large golden chandeliers twinkling under the amber lights, polished tables and chairs with white linen placed all over the smooth, reflective marble floors, and an assortment of food with enough to feed a couple hundred people.</p><p>He blinks repeatedly and inhales a deep breath, wanting to calm himself down. Donned in the elegant suit San had bought earlier for him, he feels like he doesn't belong <em>at all</em>, even when he's sure no one he's met so far suspects him of being an average college student. Surprisingly, around here, no one bats an eye at being referred to as a 'bodyguard'.</p><p>Once San looks at him after greeting the fifth important looking middle-aged man for the night, Wooyoung puts on a big smile he hopes looks bright and <em>natural</em> enough, not wanting the older to feel bad about bringing him here tonight.</p><p>Of course, if you asked Wooyoung at that moment where he'd want to spent New Year's Eve, he'd reply anywhere else but here, but he knows he can't voice that out loud; not when San's basically obligated to be here by default, socializing with people with more money and status than Wooyoung can even dream of.</p><p>"I can tell you don't like it here," San says, drawing Wooyoung out of his chaotic thoughts. "And honestly, I hate it here too. But, Hongjoong hyung and I have to be present and stuff. Especially me."</p><p>Wooyoung stares at the older, admiring him for the millionth time that night. Instead of the red and black theme Wooyoung has going on, San had opted for silver and red, and he <em>glows</em> in it. With the lacy choker around his neck, the ruby crystal under his left eye that's meant to look like a teardrop, and his soft sparkly makeup, he looks pretty much <em>ethereal</em>; like an angel.</p><p>Wooyoung's heart races when San catches him staring, and he clears his throat, busying himself with the tall glass of chardonnay in his hand. "I have a question. No -- make that two."</p><p>San giggles, staring around them before shuffling much closer to the younger. "Shoot."</p><p>"Where's Yunho? I mean, Hongjoong's talking to some people, but I haven't seen Yunho around."</p><p>San chews his lip, a little nervous. He looks at the ground. "Uh... he's spending time with a few loved ones."</p><p>Wooyoung guesses San's response makes sense, so he doesn't get why he looks so <em>guilty</em>. The older's smile has completely disappeared, and Wooyoung immediately searches for a way to lighten up the atmosphere.</p><p>"Can't blame him. I'd rather spend time with my <em>relatives</em> than to talk more with these people."</p><p>San chuckles. "<em>Come on</em>. They aren't <em>that</em> bad."</p><p>"There's this guy we had a conversation with that looked like he was wearing a wig. Seriously gives me the creeps. I bet you know who I'm talking about. He's the one with the wife that's got all that powder on her face."</p><p>"Wooyoung -- <em>oh my god</em>." San holds him by the shoulder, clamping a hand over his mouth. "You can't <em>say</em> things like that around here. What if someone hears you?" But San's laughing, much happier than before.</p><p>It makes Wooyoung a lot braver. "<em>You're</em> the one covering my mouth. I'm <em>pretty sure </em>a few people are now watching us."</p><p>San nudges him, his chuckles like music to his ears. "Oh shush."</p><p>Wooyoung shrugs, taking a quick sip of his drink. "Second question: <em>if</em> I decide to take a bunch of the food to go, will I get in trouble for it?"</p><p>San grins, rubbing Wooyoung's shoulder at first, and then snaking it down his back where no one else can see. "I don't see why you'd get in trouble. Though it <em>would</em> raise some eyebrows. These people judge you for everything."</p><p>"They sound like swell people to be around," Wooyoung replies sarcastically.</p><p>"Of course," San's tone is just as dry. "I know all the things they say about me anyway."</p><p>The joyful air between them darkens, and Wooyoung's smile drops, taking notice of the heaviness lacing San's words.</p><p>He opens his mouth to come up with <em>something</em> that'll maybe cheer San up, but someone new steps in, their Dior seafoam green suit and deep blue hair hurriedly catching his eye.</p><p>"Joongie," San sounds <em>relieved</em> as Hongjoong marches over, and Wooyoung gulps, swallowing down his slight envy. "Why'd you take so long?"</p><p>"He's here," Hongjoong states, flashing Wooyoung a pleasant smile that the younger returns. "The CEO of MK enterprises; the clothing brand we're planning on doing a collaboration with in Spring of next year. He's <em>dying</em> to talk to you."</p><p>"Oh." San's face grows more blank, every semblance of emotion wiped off. It worries Wooyoung to see, and it worsens when he looks down and spots the man tugging the colourful bracelets hidden under his sleeve again and again.</p><p>"Hey," Hongjoong starts, his face filled with concern, "it's gonna be fine. It'll only last like, five minutes tops. I won't let it exceed that."</p><p>"Can Wooyoung come along? I want him with me."</p><p>Wooyoung's eyes widen, pulse racing at the sudden attention. He tenses at both Hongjoong's and San's eyes now on him.</p><p>Hongjoong's eyes reflect uncertainty, and it affects Wooyoung even when he knows he's got no reason to feel that way. Unlike everyone else here, he doesn't have anything to his name. He clearly can't be around or interact with anyone of a high caliber.</p><p>"I'm gonna chill by the buffet," Wooyoung swiftly assures, pulling on a tight smile. "The food there looks <em>great</em>."</p><p>Hongjoong nods, while San looks defeated. It makes Wooyoung feel bad, but he knows he has no other choice.</p><p>So, he watches them leave, observing everyone they talk to on the way. His stupid, insecure mind seethes each time he catches a few of the women there eyeing San. It also makes it exceedingly obvious how San and Hongjoong <em>complement</em> each other a lot more in wealth, looks, personality -- <em>everything</em>.</p><p><em>Hongjoong's much more compatible with San, and you know it</em>, the voice in Wooyoung's head taunts, and he frowns, wanting to hit himself. He tells the voice to shut up, but it doesn't, instead relaying a string of responses that tamper even more with his self-confidence.</p><p>
  <em>Why does Choi San like you anyways?</em>
</p><p>Wooyoung heads over to the first chocolate fountain that he sees and picks up a stick of strawberries, too lost in his thoughts to actually coat them with chocolate.</p><p>"...You know, you should probably dip those strawberries in that fountain, instead of just, y'know, <em>staring</em> at them."</p><p>Wooyoung's head snaps up, locking gazes with a man he's never met before. He's got caramel coloured hair and rich tanned skin, and his round brown eyes are alert and sly, observing Wooyoung as much as Wooyoung's observing him.</p><p>The man grins, exposing a set of straight pearly teeth. "Hi," he greets, tucking his hands into the pockets of his expensive looking purple velvet tuxedo. Eyes surveying Wooyoung once again, he remarks, "Now that I've seen you up close, I <em>must</em> say Choi San definitely has a type."</p><p>"Excuse me?" Wooyoung says, eyes narrowed. Alarm throbs through his temples, because what if the male in front of him, and other people <em>know</em> about him and San?</p><p>The guy chuckles, the sound chilling Wooyoung to the bone. "Oh, how rude of me for not introducing myself. I'm Lee Haechan, chief editor of <em>Mist</em>, the No. 1 fashion and beauty magazine in South Korea. I'm also Choi San's ex boyfriend."</p><p>Wooyoung's heart freezes over. Distractedly, he puts the strawberry stick back in its place, totally avoiding the other man's stare. "Oh..."</p><p>"You're Jung Wooyoung, right? His <em>bodyguard</em>." Haechan says the word like its the most preposterous thing he's ever heard of, and Wooyoung's hands clench.</p><p>"I'm sorry," Wooyoung begins, anger boiling inside him, "but why are you talking to me? What the hell do you <em>want</em>?"</p><p>Lee Haechan hardly looks deterred by his outburst, placing some fruit into his plate. "Guessing by how defensive you're acting, I'm sure you and him have something going on."</p><p>Wooyoung's face must've showcased how utterly <em>baffled</em> he feels, because Haechan just laughs, something cruel dancing in his eyes.</p><p>"Don't worry. I won't tell a soul. Korea isn't that progressive yet; wouldn't want your dearest losing his <em>hard-earned</em> position, now would we?" Haechan continues, taking a bite off a grape. "Anyway, I just have some advice for you."</p><p><em>Leave him alone. Stop talking to him</em>, Wooyoung's mind scolds, because he's well aware of people who hate to see others shine by trampling all over their happiness, but his feet stay fucking still, glued to the gleaming, spotless floor.</p><p>"Choi San will quickly fall hard for you, and he'll fall out of love just as easily," Haechan explains, his eyes boring right into Wooyoung's as if he can read every one of his insecurities down to the very last detail. "I know this because we dated, after all. He'll make you feel special and loved; spoil you silly. But, then he'll get bored, wondering why he ever liked you in the first place."</p><p><em>That isn't true. Shut up, shut up, shut up!</em> Wooyoung wants to say; wants to <em>yell</em> in Lee Haechan's face, because who the <em>hell</em> does he think he is, trying to destroy tonight for him? But the man's smugness is one he can't ignore. He sounds honest, <em>truthful</em>.</p><p>"Fuck off," Wooyoung spits, but he's too miserable for those words to have any lasting effect. He sounds pitiful; all broken and exhausted like a wounded animal.</p><p>He rushes off right then, not turning back once to give Lee Haechan the satisfaction of seeing the tears in his eyes. He keeps walking with no set destination in mind, his gaze stuck to the floors so no one can see the state of his face.</p><p>"Wooyoung? <em>Wooyoung</em><em>!</em>"</p><p>Wooyoung grits his teeth when a hand grabs his wrist, stopping him from going further.</p><p>"Wooyoung, where are you going?" It's San himself, and just his voice hardens the lump in Wooyoung's throat. "I just finished talking with that CEO, and I couldn't see you anywhere. I -- are you okay?"</p><p>Wooyoung looks to the side when San steps in front of him, eyes studying his expression.</p><p>"Wooyoung..." the younger flinches as San touches his chin and tilts his head to look at him, his thumb as soft as clouds. "What's wrong?"</p><p>"People are around." Wooyoung moves away and adjusts his bowtie, blinking to get rid of the wetness clinging to his lashes. "You can't do this here."</p><p>San frowns, lips tucked into a pout. Another day and another moment, Wooyoung would've melted at the sight, but not today. Not when he feels so hopeless.</p><p>"Then let's talk outside," San beckons, his fingers folding over Wooyoung's. "Let's talk and figure out what's bothering you. I hate seeing you like this, you know that right?"</p><p>Wooyoung's jaw clenches. <em>Who's Lee Haechan?</em> He wants to ask, but a woman with grey hair and a form-fitting lilac dress shows up at that second, earning their attention. Wooyoung internally clams up, wanting nothing else than to just <em>go home</em>.</p><p>"Choi San, I'm so glad I finally got to speak to you tonight," the woman speaks.</p><p>"Same here," San relays politely, though the anxiety in his eyes is prevalent.</p><p>"And you must be Jung Wooyoung," the lady continues, ushering a warm smile Wooyoung's way. "You're quite the looker, if I may say so myself. Though San-ssi never provided me with any portfolios, I trusted he had a good eye since he and Hongjoong have worked with my models a few times."</p><p>Wooyoung's frustration dissipates, and confusion seeps through. He stares at San for an explanation, but the older's <em>frozen still</em>, looking like a deer caught in headlights.</p><p>"He said you've got a unique set of eyes, so I guess you must've covered them up tonight," the woman continues. Her hazel eyes light up with surprise. "Oh -- forgive me. I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Kang Mirae, head of <em>Interstellar</em>, a modeling agency."</p><p>For a moment, it's like everything slows down, rendering Wooyoung unable to move. But soon enough, he regains his spirit, his confusion twisting into something more ferocious. More <em>livid</em>.</p><p>Before he knows it, he's outside of the villa and running towards the parking lot, hands in his hair as his world crumbles to pieces.</p><p>San's yelling his name, hugging him close, but Wooyoung isn't having it.</p><p>"<em>Don't touch me</em>," he hisses, glaring at the older man. San's expression shatters, eyes overwhelmed, but it does <em>nothing</em> to him. "Leave me alone."</p><p>"W-Wooyoung, please," San begs, making another attempt to reach out for the younger. "I was going to tell you, I <em>swear</em> I was. I -- I just didn't know she'd be here today. <em>Fuck</em>. I-I thought you'd be okay with it."</p><p>"You <em>thought</em> I'd be okay with it without asking me for my input or my <em>permission</em>?" Wooyoung knows he's probably overreacting, but with every single thought he has and every single word Lee Haechan uttered tonight, he feels <em>this</em> close to exploding altogether. "Did I ever tell you I wanted to model? <em>No I did not</em>. But there you go again, doing shit without asking for my opinion. But of course -- you can do <em>whatever</em> you want, right? You have it all, while I'm <em>nothing</em> in comparison to you."</p><p>All the blood drains from San's face, his eyes filling with tears. "How..." he inhales, sorrow echoing off his voice, "how can you say something like that to me? How can you say that after everything I've <em>done</em> for you? How <em>dare</em> you."</p><p>"No! How dare <em>you</em>, Choi San. <em>How dare you!</em>" Wooyoung knows he should stop, but he can't. <em>He's</em> hurt too. He's fucking hurt and he's mad and he's in pain. So much pain.</p><p>"Met someone named Lee Haechan tonight. Said he used to date you."</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't know how exactly he expects San to react to his words, but the despondent, crushed look in the man's eyes tighten the knots in his stomach. He feels like he's suffocating.</p><p>"He -- he said a lot of things about you too," Wooyoung adds, because a part of him just wants San to deny again and again that they were never involved with each other, so that maybe -- <em>just maybe</em> -- Wooyoung can feel a lot less repulsed by himself. But, San continues to stay silent, confirming his worst fears.</p><p>"His words, I must admit, really fucked with my head," Wooyoung whispers, the lump in his throat nearly choking him. "I-In fact, I can't stop <em>thinking</em> about them. No matter how fucking hard I try <em>not</em> to."</p><p>An uncontrollable sob escapes him right then, and then he's pushing his palm over his mouth to muffle the sound, wanting the ground to just <em>open up and swallow him. </em></p><p>For some reason, as soon as he feels San's arms around his body, his comforting floral scent drowning out everything else, Wooyoung further breaks apart, wanting to just <em>die</em>.</p><p>"Whatever thoughts he put in your head, erase them." San hugs him tighter, and it worsens his guilt, considering everything he'd just said to him. "That's what he does; he ruins things. I'm sorry I left you alone and made you run into him. <em>I'm so sorry</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung can't stop tearing up, however, and he <em>hates</em> it. "I want to go home."</p><p>"I'll go with you," San lets go, only to pull out his phone. He doesn't look much better than Wooyoung does, his eyes and nose red and his cheeks tinged with pink. "I'll call Mr Kim."</p><p><em>Look what you did. Ruining his night like you ruined your parents' marriage</em>. Wooyoung takes a step back, shoving his hands into his pockets. "No. Stay here with Hongjoong hyung and everyone else. You deserve to spend your New Year's happy."</p><p>"I want to spend New Year's with you."</p><p>"<em>No</em>, San," Wooyoung shakes his head. "Being with me will just <em>spoil</em> your mood. Look at you right now, crying <em>because</em> of me. Please, let me not ruin even more of your night."</p><p>But San doesn't listen. Instead, he presses his phone to his ears when the call goes through, instructing Mr Kim to come pick them up.</p><p>Fortunately, Mr Kim doesn't take long to arrive, and Wooyoung immediately enters the car while San and Hongjoong discuss something outside.</p><p>His evil, despicable mind starts creating unreal scenarios at how <em>close</em> San and Hongjoong are, filling in blanks with pointless details that further trouble his already unstable thoughts. Jealousy, green and putrid festers within him, ripping apart his heart like a field of thorns.</p><p>And it hurts. So bad.</p><p>San eventually enters after a few minutes, not minding Mr Kim's presence as he engulfs Wooyoung in his arms and kisses his temple, but the younger's mind is already far, far away.</p><p><em>He'll make you feel special and loved; spoil you silly. But, then he'll get bored, wondering why he ever liked you in the first place</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. choi san is uncontrollably fond</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>cw: implied mature content</em>
</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>
      <em>《 </em>
    </b>
    <b>
      <em>if you could only see</em>
    </b>
    <br/>
    <b>
      <em>what i see when i look</em>
    </b>
    <br/>
    <b>
      <em>at you</em>
    </b>
    <b>
      <em> 》</em>
    </b>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The ride to San's house is a silent one, and for once Wooyoung doesn't want it. Yet, he doesn't utter a single word as the minutes pass by, not knowing what else to say to San who's still holding him close, head pressed against his. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Once Mr Kim parks in front of the house, San unbuckles both their seatbelts and gently leads Wooyoung out of the car, arms snug around his waist. The younger doesn't reject his touch, but he doesn't relax into it either, keeping quiet until San ushers him away from the frigid winter air and into the more cozy indoors.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"I'm gonna go turn on the electric fireplace," San begins with a slight clear of the throat, his voice a remnant of the tears he's shed. He lets Wooyoung go and searches frantically for the remote, only to stop in his tracks and stare at the younger through widened eyes. "Or -- or maybe we can turn the heater on in my room? <em>Or your room</em>. That's fine too." He walks up to Wooyoung, the remote squeezed in his hand. "Any suggestion's fine."</p>
</div><p><br/>Wooyoung detests how anxious and extra careful San's being around him, beating himself up for it because it's none other than <em>his</em> fault. <em>He's</em> the one who decided that acting overdramatic and stupidly emotional was worth messing up a night that was <em>supposed</em> to end well. It's <em>New Year's Ev</em><em>e</em>, for crying out loud, and yet, he just feels miserable.</p><p>He guesses he must've kept his mouth closed for too long, because San shifts nearer and cautiously runs his fingers down his hair, worry embedded in his steady stare. It's like second nature how Wooyoung leans in, comforted by how soft and <em>safe</em> the older's hands are.</p><p>"...We have about two hours before the year ends. We can huddle up in bed and watch a movie or something," San suggests with a small smile.</p><p>When Wooyoung looks at him, all he can see is him screaming at the man and the wretched, crestfallen look in his eyes. It makes Wooyoung feel even worse about himself.</p><p>"Or we can talk. About whatever," San continues. His smile hasn't dropped, but there's a strained hilt in his tone, one which forces them to acknowledge the unspoken elephant in the room. "Enjoy each other's company."</p><p>It kind of hurts how bad San's trying to act as if everything is back to normal, worsening Wooyoung's guilt. The way he's fussing over Wooyoung, holding him close as if he's done nothing wrong drives the younger nuts, because he's well aware he doesn't deserve it.</p><p>He just keeps fucking things up.</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't speak up when San pulls the tuxedo down his arms, his warm fingers burning into his skin as he softly tugs off the black bowtie as well. He avoids the older's stare throughout, the intimacy prevalent in San's touches forcing his breath out of him.</p><p>"Say something..." San's voice is hushed, weaving its way into the folds of Wooyoung's tainted, bruised heart. "It's -- it's making me anxious. I know I've done bad, and...and I don't want to do anything that'll <em>hurt</em> you anymore. So please," San stares directly into Wooyoung's saddened eyes, "let me know I'm doing okay. T-That you still want me."</p><p><em>I want you, San. I want you so much it</em><em>'s driving me crazy</em>, Wooyoung thinks, but his tongue's like lead, mind cluttered with each and every word he'd heard tonight. He fucking hates how affected he is over everything, and the most frustrating part's that he has no idea how to stop or get rid of the self-deprecating thoughts festering inside him. He's <em>tired</em> of it all; so, so tired.</p><p>Wooyoung flinches when San's hand cradles his cheek, cursing himself at how San stiffens due to his reaction. "I still like you," he says a bit offhandedly, and winces at the melancholy shadowing San's features. He inhales deeply. "I'm sorry."</p><p>A small, <em>careful</em> part of him feels like all <em>this</em> -- all of San's love and affection, his warmth and his touches and his kisses -- won't be worth it in the end; that the kind of relationship they have won't last. Not because they aren't compatible, but because they simply aren't <em>meant</em> to be together.</p><p>He sees it in San's elegance, his position in society, his <em>affluence</em>. He's <em>so much better</em> than Wooyoung in every single way.</p><p>This thought doesn't leave; instead, it grows, spreading like poison in his veins and contaminating whatever's left of his happiness. Unwanted tears prick his eyes, but he blinks them away.</p><p>"I'm sorry too," San says, looking down at his and Wooyoung's hands. Breathing in a shaky breath, he interlocks their fingers. "Since it's something you don't want, I'll let Mirae know you aren't interested in the deal. A-And, I'll get rid of whatever else you don't want, hm? Tell me what I can do to make you feel better."</p><p>San's thumb runs along the slope of Wooyoung's knuckles, and the younger shivers at the contact. How he longs to just forget about the shitfest that was tonight, pull the older close and hug him until there's nothing else on their minds but each other, but all he can do is stay still, drowning in self-contempt. He no longer feels like himself.</p><p>At last, after the prolonged silence and San's thoughtful brown eyes get to him, Wooyoung feels himself look up, taking in the older's stare almost immediately.</p><p>"San, I..." Wooyoung begins, the guilt shredding him apart on the inside at the way San visibly hangs on to his every word. "I want to take a bath."</p><p>His words come as a surprise for both men, and Wooyoung's eyes enlarge as a result, not really knowing why he chose to blurt that out instead of something else. A shameful flush blooms over his cheeks, and he takes a step back, shaking his head.</p><p>"Uh," he chuckles, but it's mirthless, "I <em>seriously</em> don't know why the hell I said that. Ignore it."</p><p>San looks unconvinced, however, a flicker of a smile growing on his face. "I'm pretty sure you want one, judging by the way you're blushing."</p><p>San's obviously glad he's found a way to get Wooyoung more comfortable, and Wooyoung wouldn't have minded it <em>if</em> it wasn't causing him so much embarrassment.</p><p>"Nah," he refutes the older's statement. "I'm <em>perfectly</em> okay -- "</p><p>"To the bathtub we <em>go</em>!" San places his hands on his shoulders and turns him around, leaning close to his neck. And Wooyoung's breath fucking hitches, especially at the sight of one of San's rare smirks on display. "Luckily for <em>you</em>, I happen to be well-versed on everything that has to do with bathing."</p><p>"Wait, San -- " Wooyoung argues, but San's already dragging him up the spiralling staircase, excited squeals escaping his lips. In an instant, all his intended arguments fade away, replaced by this floaty fuzziness that crashes upon his chest like a lightning bolt. And it's something only <em>Choi San</em> makes him feel. <em>Fuck</em>.</p><p>"I don't even know how I hadn't thought about it before," San rambles, hands flying over and unbuttoning the last of Wooyoung's waistcoat. His eyes linger on the younger's chest for a second, causing Wooyoung to swallow. "Like -- baths are <em>supposed</em> to be relaxing, right? And they also clean you up."</p><p>Wooyoung just nods, his words failing him as San's nimble hands undress him inside the enormous white tiled bathroom. The cold air nips at his exposed upper body, and he rubs his arms while San rushes towards the tub at the left-hand corner, drawing up the bath.</p><p>"Are... are you bathing too?" Wooyoung asks San after taking off his contacts, who's now setting the bath oils and soap in place. With the older's back to him, he swiftly rids himself of the rest of his clothing and covers his body with one of the folded bathrobes, even when San has seen him nude before. It's cozy, and automatically lessens the goosebumps scattered across his skin.</p><p>San looks at him, and hell, Wooyoung's once more struck by how <em>attractive</em> the man is. Despite their lowly lit surroundings, he <em>shines</em> as bright as ever, and the smile he shoots Wooyoung right then causes his poor heart to nearly pop out of his chest.</p><p>"My main priority here is you, Woo," San says, and Wooyoung's heart races to dangerous speeds. "Unless..." he tilts his head, his grin far too innocent for the words he utters next. "Unless you won't mind me joining you?"</p><p>Wooyoung fiddles with his cotton bathrobe, San's gaze on his face and body heating him to the core. He gulps. "I mean, I don't know."</p><p>"It's alright. I just want to make sure you're satisfied tonight."</p><p>"You can join me." Okay, Wooyoung doesn't know exactly <em>why</em> he says that out loud, but he guesses it has <em>something</em> to do with how San's words make him remember the horrible way he treated him earlier.</p><p>San's eyes lighten with surprise, bit it isn't negative. He adjusts the frilly choker around his neck -- and maybe it's the darkness playing tricks on Wooyoung's brain -- but he <em>swears</em> he sees San smile to himself at that moment.</p><p>San stands, and the butterflies infesting Wooyoung's stomach become alive. <em>Stop freaking out</em>.</p><p>"Thank you." San keeps his eyes on Wooyoung the entire time he takes off his own clothes, though the redness coating his ears and neck betray that Wooyoung's stares affect him as much as his affect the younger.</p><p>When every single one of San's clothes are removed, Wooyoung can't help the way his eyes rake down his bare body. Shadows dance over every rippling muscle, further highlighting his milky skin. Wooyoung bites his lip, a little flustered.</p><p>San laughs, quiet and endearing, as he lessens the space between him and the younger. It isn't long before his face is so close their noses graze, and Wooyoung shuts his eyes, readying himself for the older's lips on his.</p><p>Only...San doesn't make the move. A glance upon his features reveals his nervousness, and the shame bubbling in Wooyoung's gut threatens to eat him alive. This is nothing but his fault. <em>San's being like this because of what you did to him, you idiot</em>.</p><p>The want for approval simmers in San's dark eyes, complementing the almost shy smile tugging at his lips, and Wooyoung can't take it anymore.</p><p>He lets his hands wrap around San's neck and takes the plunge by bringing their lips together. The older's response is instantaneous; he leans in and quickly deepens the kiss, fingers digging into the curve of Wooyoung's waist. When San slants his head, his warm tongue slipping sensually into the younger's mouth, Wooyoung loses his breath, melting into him like he's his saviour; his sole lifeline.</p><p>"Jesus, Woo..." San exhales, lips planting feather-light kisses down Wooyoung's jaw. "I like you so much. You're so beautiful." He drags his palm along the shorter's spine, and Wooyoung kisses him again, San's compliments igniting the bravery he never knew he had.</p><p>San, like always, gives in to him all too eagerly, and a type of haughtiness sneaks into Wooyoung right then. Because, at that moment, <em>he's</em> the one kissing San, not anybody else. <em>He's</em> the one San cares so much for, and he's the one under San's simcere attention. No matter the sort of relationship Lee Haechan had with San before, Wooyoung's the one who San likes <em>now</em>.</p><p><em>Choi San will quickly fall hard for you, and he'll fall out of love just as easily</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung squeezes his eyes shut, willing those words out of his head. His breathing shallows, flames engulfing his heart at the feeling of San's tender lips on his collarbone.</p><p>"We should bathe before the water runs cold," Wooyoung forces out, lungs aching for more air. It's pathetic how much power San has over him, and the worst part's that he actually doesn't mind it.</p><p>San smiles down at Wooyoung, pushing his hand through his hair. Pleasant shivers topple down Wooyoung's spine. "Yeah, of course. Kinda got carried away."</p><p>An easy smile settles on Wooyoung's face, and he blushes when San's smile immediately widens. "Okay."</p><p>Wooyoung looks down at the squeaky clean tiles, heartbeat pounding in his ears at what he's about to do. It's stupid to feel this way, he reasons, considering San's currently naked and they've already familiarized themselves with each other's bodies. Still, a wave of anxiety's crashing on top of him, especially with San's eyes on him like this.</p><p>San notices; of course he does. "Are you okay?"</p><p>Wooyoung swallows, loosening his robe until it falls down his shoulders. "I'm fine."</p><p>He's well aware of how his body appears, an outcome of years spent watching what he ate and the quantities in which he consumed them. He isn't overweight or out of shape, but he <em>is</em> thin, and standing in front of San who looks as majestic as ever, he feels nothing other than <em>inadequate</em>.</p><p>San takes the robe and places it elsewhere, and Wooyoung can't help but stare at at the man, <em>something</em> wicked in him wanting to find some kind of tick, some kind of frown or dissatisfaction that confirms San sees him the way he sees himself.</p><p>But, he sees <em>nothing</em> of that. As San leads him to the bathtub, all that's present on his expression is this deep fondness and devotion that makes Wooyoung's head spin. He's not used to it; doesn't know how to react.</p><p>The water's fortunately warm, sloshing against Wooyoung's legs as he settles himself in. It smells nice too, something like aromatic raspberry cloaking his senses. San heads in after him, and sits in front so that they're facing each other.</p><p>"Have you ever bathed with anyone before?" Is what San decides to ask. His sudden question draws a nervous laugh out of Wooyoung.</p><p>"Weird question," he starts, but shakes his head, smoothing his fingers across the soapy surface of the water. "I haven't. At least -- not before you."</p><p>"I'm glad to be your first."</p><p>Wooyoung chuckles, ears hot at the wide grin San flashes him. "That's cheesy."</p><p>San shrugs, shifting a bit closer. "Have you ever taken a bath before?"</p><p>"What are these questions?"</p><p>San giggles, eyes crinkling with amusement. "Shh, just answer it."</p><p>"<em>Yes</em>, I have."</p><p>Wooyoung keeps his gaze on San as he reaches for the loofah beside him. He gains an idea of the man's intention right then, and a stupid blush darkens his ears and cheeks. "What...what are you planning to do?"</p><p>"Bathe you?" San chews his lip. "I mean -- my dad did it when I was a little kid and was stubborn about cleaning myself. I ended up liking it, although I never admitted it to anyone. Mostly because it's embarrassing." He chuckles at this, Wooyoung soon joining him. "It also comforted me a lot; cleared my mind."</p><p>"I can see there's a bunch of things you're thinking about, and that's something I want to help you with," San continues, coating the loofah with the bathing soap. The lavender scent fills the atmosphere, soothing Wooyoung's joints. San sees this, and laughs. "Nice, huh?"</p><p>Wooyoung nods, his pulse racing when the older male slowly lathers his arms with the soap. It's weirdly relaxing, and he doesn't oppose to it since he likes it. Makes him feel like a child again.</p><p>San rubs the loofah over his chest, leaving a trail of nice smelling soap in its wake. "Dad also told me several stories to get me to concentrate when I was acting up. Sometimes, he even sang a couple nursery rhymes. Can't really remember them, but they sounded nice."</p><p>Wooyoung observes the nostalgic look on San's face as he recalls the past, and he doesn't know why his words make him feel a bit sad. "Your dad seems like a good person."</p><p>San pauses, a somber smile peeking through. "Yeah..." He answers, closing in the distance between him and Wooyoung to clean his back as cautiously as he can. His kind, almost <em>motherly</em> action fills Wooyoung's stomach with knots, enlarging the lump in his throat. "He was a great person..."</p><p>"Was?" Wooyoung asks before he can think better of it and hurriedly shuts his mouth, eyes widened. "Oh -- I'm sorry."</p><p>"No, it's okay." San's eyes are someplace else, somewhere Wooyoung doesn't think he can ever reach. "My dad... Well, he's still alive."</p><p>Wooyoung exhales, relief seeping into him. "Oh." San's serious demeanor worries him however. "That's good."</p><p><em>Stop talking</em>, he internally yells, wanting to hit himself.</p><p>San smiles, but it's not as genuine as the others. "Mhm."</p><p>"Are you okay?" Wooyoung decides to ask.</p><p>"Yeah." San turns his head to the side, but it takes less than a second for Wooyoung to spot the tears in his eyes.</p><p>Wooyoung's at a loss for what to do, but he knows he's got to do <em>something</em>. So, instead of overthinking it more than he has to, he adjusts himself in the bathtub, folding his knees up to his chest. San's eyes stay on him as he takes the loofah and drenches it with more soap, smoothing it over San's chest.</p><p>"I'll take care of you now," he states, before booping the older's nose with his index finger. He sniggers as he bursts the bubble left on it.</p><p>"Woo..."</p><p>"No arguments," Wooyoung tuts. "I'll wash you and make you <em>super clean</em>."</p><p>"Now that you said it like that, it sounds <em>really</em> strange."</p><p>Wooyoung tuts at the man again, grinning at the way San shudders under his hands when they run over his scar. For a moment, he wonders if he shouldn't have done that, but San grins back at him as bright as ever.</p><p>San groans just as Wooyoung lightly smacks his pectoral muscles. "<em>Ow. </em>What was that for?"</p><p>"Why are they so <em>hard</em>?"</p><p>"Shut up." San laughs, but his ears are beet red.</p><p>"No, seriously," Wooyoung presses, now focused on cleaning down the older's torso. He totally doesn't ogle his abs. Totally. "I've never seen you exercise <em>once</em> during my stay here. How are you so muscular?"</p><p>San chuckles, only for it to turn into a childish whine when Wooyoung slaps his hand away as soon as he attempts touching his face. "I've simply been blessed by the sacred God of Abs."</p><p>"Hyung, <em>be serious</em>."</p><p>"I exercise whenever I'm unable to sleep at night," San explains, a content sigh leaving him at how Wooyoung scrubs him with as much care as he can muster. "So, when you're in your room, I just head out and go to the gym inside the house."</p><p>"You have a <em>gym</em>?" Wooyoung can't hide his shock.</p><p>"Yeah...? It's the room at the end of the hall," San answers. He yelps when the younger man smacks him again. "<em>Wooyoung</em>."</p><p>Said male cackles, only for him to stop at how <em>soft</em> San's expression gets.</p><p>"Keep laughing," San says, enamoured. "I like it when you laugh."</p><p>Wooyoung ignores him, holding the older's hand to wash it as well. His heart races when San entwines their fingers without a moment's hesitation. "San."</p><p>"Wooyoung-ah." Wooyoung's toes curl as San <em>kisses</em> their knuckles, unmindful of the bubbles.</p><p>There's a twinkle in San's eyes when Wooyoung gulps. Wanting to distract himself, he heads for the man's freckled neck to soap it up.</p><p>"I like you," San confesses, and Wooyoung's stomach twists.</p><p>"Me too." Wooyoung fears he looks something like a ripened tomato right now. San kissing his hand again further confirms this theory. "I-I'll wash your hair."</p><p>"<em>Really</em>?" San beams.</p><p>"Yep."</p><p>"But what about yours?"</p><p>Wooyoung wriggles his slick fingers, watching the iridescent bubbles separate and pop. "I've washed my hair recently, so I don't need to do it again."</p><p>"Oh." San appears disappointed, but it vanishes as soon as Wooyoung grabs the shampoo bottle, pretending to read over its contents in order to calm his harsh heartbeat.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>Sweet apple drifts along the bathroom walls when Wooyoung squeezes some of the shampoo out into his palm, before slowly massaging the liquid into San's scalp. At first, it feels kind of <em>odd</em> to be doing this to someone who's technically his higher-up -- and it feels a little maternal as well, but before long, Wooyoung gets used to the feel of San's head and long dark hair under his palms.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>And San, well, San is <em>living</em>.</p>
</div><p><br/>It catches Wooyoung <em>so</em> off-guard at the unrestrained joy practically <em>shooting</em> out of San. Wooyoung often finds himself having to hold him in place because his excitement's just too much, but his giggles and ecstatic squeals leave the younger with a big smile.</p><p>"I love this <em>so much</em>," San comments, his voice far more high-pitched than before. Wooyoung wonders if he's now entered little space. "I love Wooyoungie so much."</p><p>"Yeah, yeah," Wooyoung chuckles, though his breathing stutters at San's words. He rakes his fingers down to the nape of his hair, his insides warming up at the sound of San's lovely giggles.</p><p>"Does Wooyoungie love Sannie back?"</p><p>Wooyoung freezes, and makes the mistake of staring at San at that moment. The older has the most <em>brilliant</em> smile on his face, his adorable dimples out in the open, and Wooyoung suddenly doesn't know how he can <em>ever</em> say no to someone like him.</p><p>Wooyoung pokes one of San's dimples even when his heart's going crazy on the inside. He's <em>so fucked</em>. "Wooyoungie... he loves Sannie too."</p><p>San's smile broadens, and he claps in delight. "I'm so happy."</p><p>Wooyoung is too -- <em>a lot</em> -- and it's an emotion he's learning to accept just because of San.</p><p><em>You don't deserve happiness</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung shoves the raspy, feminine voice into the back of his mind, determined not to think about it now.</p><p><em>You don't deserve anything. The only thing you're good at is being a disappointment</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung busies himself with rinsing San's hair and body with the showerhead, but even that doesn't free him from the heavy shackles of his mother's words.</p><p>"Is Wooyoungie okay?" San asks, eyes glossed over with concern.</p><p>"Wooyoungie is fine," Wooyoung replies, but he's pretty sure San doesn't believe him. He sighs, before adding, "We should get dried up before it's New Year's."</p><p>San nods, and before long, the tub is drained and San is ridding Wooyoung's body of the last bits of soap and bath oils, leaving his skin freshened and glistening.</p><p>"You have a nice body," San remarks, and despite his honesty and their current states, his words are pure. Childlike. "You're so pretty, Wooyoungie."</p><p>Wooyoung wants to kiss him, so he <em>does</em>. And San kisses back, curling his fingers into his damp hair. He smells so good, just like he always does, and for once, Wooyoung wants to sleep in his arms and not have to worry about anything ever again.</p><p>San bites Wooyoung's lower lip, sneaky hands snaking into his thighs, and the heat in the air heightens, electrifying him further.</p><p>"We -- we should get dressed up," Wooyoung whispers, not really feeling like letting go.</p><p>"I love Wooyoungie," San admits once more into the crook of the younger's neck.</p><p>Wooyoung's knees nearly buckle. "I'm glad."</p><p>"I really mean it."</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>Thankfully, San doesn't spout anymore confessions fuelled by nothing other than his impulse, and Wooyoung's able to dry them up and dress them in colourful pjs and fuzzy slippers, courtesy of San's request.</p><p>He asks the older to check the time on his phone, but as soon as he says that, San types <em>something</em> in and then there's soft, sensuous music echoing throughout the sitting room, startling him to bits.</p><p>San laughs, picking up the bluetooth speaker beside the TV that Wooyoung <em>somehow</em> missed. "It's coming from here."</p><p>Wooyoung's stomach flips when San body rolls at a pace far too <em>seductive</em> considering what he's wearing. He gulps, feeling very much like a prude when he averts his eyes. "I need the time, hyung."</p><p>San laughs good-naturedly, a smirk making its way over his lips as he waltzes over to Wooyoung, doing yet another body roll to the melodious, bassy tune. "11:24 PM, babe."</p><p>Wooyoung's face grows hot. "What are you <em>doing</em>?"</p><p>"Dancing." San moves closer, and just by Wooyoung staring at him -- at his <em>hips</em>, rather -- he feels like he's sinning. "C'mon, you should totally dance with me."</p><p>"I can't dance," Wooyoung answers, wanting to head towards the kitchen. But San stops him in his tracks with his arms now tightly wrapped around him.</p><p>"I'm sure you're kidding," San chuckles, swaying them side to side.</p><p>Wooyoung's breath hitches when he feels San's hand sliding inside his shirt. "I'm not -- I'm not good at dancing. I'm really not."</p><p>"Just follow my lead," San assures, breath fanning the younger's ear. A part of Wooyoung wants to refuse this altogether, not at all fond of dancing to anything tonight, but another part of him, the <em>much bigger</em> part, decides to listen to San.</p><p>He stiffly nods. "Alright."</p><p>Wooyoung's never envisioned himself ever dancing so <em>intimately</em> with someone, and honestly he only thought that only worked in the movies, but as San twirls him around just to draw him near, moving them to the mysterious, alluring beat of the song, Wooyoung admits he can get used to this.</p><p>A minute passes and the bridge enters, bringing about a sense of urgency. <em>I want you. All of you</em>, is displayed in San's grip on his waist, his lips kissing his neck, and his <em>hips.</em> The way he grinds on him makes Wooyoung feel like the sexiest person alive.</p><p>And so is San. San is so fucking <em>sexy</em>, it's insane. He's dressed in freaking <em>pyjamas</em>, for Christ's sake, but dances like he's hell on earth.</p><p>San pushes Wooyoung against the wall and hikes his leg up, crotch pressed right against his, and it feels <em>so good</em>. If Hell's like this, he doesn't ever want to go to Heaven.</p><p>But then the song stops and silence ripples through the air.</p><p>"That song's one of my favourites," San says like it's nothing, and fuck, Wooyoung hates the disheartening chill that envelopes him when San lets him go. "<em>Very</em> nice beat. Its lyrics are fantastic too."</p><p>Wooyoung pats his cheeks, not even surprised at how warm they are. "What's the name?" He mutters.</p><p>"Desire." San walks over to the bluetooth speaker, and younger's discouragement grows too big to ignore.</p><p><em>Come back.</em> Wooyoung <em>needs</em> him to return.</p><p>"I should play another song," San says, oblivious to his inner turmoil. "Or maybe we can watch something fun before the year ends. Is there a show you want -- "</p><p>"Fuck me."</p><p>San blinks at him, wide-eyed. His mouth drops. "W-What?"</p><p>Wooyoung stares at the tiles below his feet, but even with this, he hears San approaching him. His heart skips a beat. "...Have sex with me." He looks up at the older man, noting the vivid blush colouring his neck. "I want you to."</p><p>"Like -- like <em>now</em>?" San stammers, mouth opening and closing like a fish.</p><p>Wooyoung nods. He tugs on the older's sleeve. "Yeah. Now."</p><p>San doesn't hesitate, pulling Wooyoung into his room a moment later.</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't know how he starts the night feeling insecure, sobbing and verbally fighting with San, to ending up in his bed just hours later, <em>under him</em>, but he doesn't mind it at all. Not when San's satiating all that he craves.</p><p>With every thrust, Wooyoung breaches cloud nine. San is loving and passionate, pounding into him and filling him up <em>so well</em>, and Wooyoung doesn't feel like someone who's just <em>lost</em> something. Instead, he feels like he's gained a sense of wholeness; of finally connecting with someone in a way he's never done before. For the first time ever, he feels completely bare, laid down and utterly <em>vulnerable</em> beneath San and trusting the man to take care of him. He commits the entirety of himself into San's hands, hoping with all his might that he cherishes his heart and doesn't let it go.</p><p>"I love you," San says for the third time tonight in a haze of heart-aching kisses and breathy moans, and this time, it gets through to Wooyoung.</p><p>And this time, Wooyoung doesn't answer back.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. jung wooyoung is not so different</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>tw: panic attack</em>
  <em>, ptsd 'flashback'</em>
</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>
      <em>《 maybe i'm just being selfish</em>
    </b>
    <br/>
    <b>
      <em>or maybe i just don't deserve it</em>
    </b>
    <b>
      <em> 》</em>
    </b>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p>San stared out of the car window, a mild frown settling on his lips as the cold late afternoon air caressed his face and tickled his nose. Glancing at the rearview mirror, he could see the faint pink gracing his cheeks, and his frown deepened even more.</p><p>God, Summer <em>had</em> to be his least favourite season, from the way it became disgustingly hot at day to how annoyingly chilly it got at night. It was even worse with the white turtleneck and tuxedo he had on at that moment, the pricey clothing smothering him with every terse inhale.</p><p><em>What's taking him so freaking long?</em> San flipped out his phone and checked the time, his brows knitting at the fact that nearly <em>thirty</em> minutes had passed since he'd last parked here at this obscure, tiny ass bakery, and his older brother <em>still</em> hadn't left the establishment. <em>What is he doing</em>?</p><p>San tried not to let his frustration show. He leaned into his leather seat, goosebumps scurrying along his skin as he tapped on the steering wheel to pass the time. His jaw ticked at he stared at the lit bakery once more, sucking in an angered breath when another customer that <em>wasn't</em> his brother exited the building.</p><p>This whole arrangement was getting on San's nerves. He hadn't planned on entertaining anyone he knew tonight -- or even for the rest of his two-week stay in Haeundae at his hotel suite, wanting to just <em>get away</em> for a bit before he got thrust into his shitty, mundane daily schedule once again.</p><p>He'd planned on just pigging it out while watching Netflix and wrapping himself up in bed like a hermit crab without ever interacting with anyone for this entire break, only to get a call that morning from Jongho about how 'urgently' his presence was needed. A simple drive to go get breakfast quickly turned into a borderline shopping spree, and it made San regret ever heeding to the man's suggestion of having his vacation spot so close to his.</p><p>San wanted to go back to his hotel. He wanted it <em>now</em>.</p><p>A message bubble flew on top of his darkened phone screen.</p><p>
  <b>- why have i not blocked you yet</b>
  <br/>
  <em>hey, are you at your hotel </em>
  <em>rn</em>
  <em>?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>i miss you</em>
</p><p>
  <b>- why have i not blocked you yet</b>
  <br/>
  <em>let's have some fun again, just like the other times</em>
</p><p>San felt his irritation spike into a whole new peak. Letting Seo Rihyeon into his bedroom was already a mistake in and out of itself. He'd been drunk back then, left numb and disappointed after another arranged business gathering with some guy that his father had apparently been close with. The highly sort-after model had been at the venue, and things had escalated from there.</p><p>She was pretty, San gave her that, but he wasn't attracted to her. Never had been. But that didn't stop him from sleeping with her a couple times as he'd needed the diversion, but now he was tired of it. And she was starting to get a little too <em>clingy</em> for his liking.</p><p>
  <b>- san</b>
  <br/>
  <em>stop trying to contact me</em>
  <br/>
  <em>do you want a restraining order?</em>
</p><p>
  <b>- why have i not blocked you yet</b>
  <br/>
  <em>stop being difficult, i just want a good fuck</em>
  <br/>
  <em>where are you?</em>
</p><p>San looked out the window, biting the inside of his cheek. The bakery's indoor lights had gotten slightly dimmer, but through the sliding glass doors, he could see a handful of the customers who'd decided to lounge inside and eat their orders instead of bringing them out. Fists clenched, San searched for Jongho, his teeth gritting when he saw the older seemingly chatting with one of the female workers there.</p><p>San squeezed his eyes shut, refraining from dialing his brother's number right then and chewing him out. <em>This</em> close to opening the car door and stepping out, he glanced at his phone again, already wishing he'd never done so when he read over the contents of Rihyeon's texts.</p><p>
  <b>- why have i not blocked you yet</b>
  <br/>
  <em>san? </em>
  <br/>
  <em>you should answer me instead of keeping silent</em>
  <br/>
  <em>why are you so adamant on keeping your distance from me when we've fucked so many times?</em>
</p><p>San huffed out a tired sigh.</p><p>
  <b>- san</b>
  <br/>
  <em>the last time we met was two months ago</em>
  <br/>
  <em>if you didn't already know, we're over</em>
</p><p>
  <b>- san</b>
  <br/>
  <em>stop messaging me and go do something important with your life</em>
</p><p>
  <b>- why have i not blocked you yet</b>
  <br/>
  <em>wow</em>
  <br/>
  <em>you're a fucking jerk</em>
</p><p>San already knew he was. He'd heard it all, from people whispering behind his back about how bratty and mean-spirited he acted, to how disappointing and pointless he was in comparison to his father and older brother.</p><p>He knew he'd never belonged from the start, so what what Seo Rihyeon trying to pull?</p><p>
  <b>- why have i not blocked you yet</b>
  <br/>
  <em>you're a piece of shit, you know that right?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>what if i tell others, huh? let them know about how you basically used me for my body and the times you cried in my arms after getting so shitfaced drunk you could barely remember your own name?</em>
</p><p>
  <b>- san</b>
  <br/>
  <em>say a word and be ready for my lawyer</em>
</p><p>San then deleted her number off his phone, tired of chatting with her.</p><p>Still, he couldn't help the way his hands pathetically shook as they raked down his hair. He was trembling from inside out at the fact that Rihyeon <em>knew</em>, but he kept telling himself over and over that nothing would get out into the open.</p><p>"Shit!" He slammed a hand on the steering wheel, pain buzzing beneath his fingertips at the force. He managed to switch on his phone despite his shaking palms, ready to call Jongho before <em>something</em> in his peripheral view caught his attention.</p><p>The grip San had on his phone loosened as the sliding doors to the bakery parted ways, exposing the slumped figure marching out.</p><p>He was familiar, though San didn't even know how he looked like. He'd been talking with a woman just minutes prior, but here he was, rushing out of the building like he was carrying the entire world on his back.</p><p>For a few seconds, San just watched, forgetting about his own problems and instead focusing on the boy. He looked young, dark brown hair reaching his cheeks and getting tousled around in the evening breeze. He scuffed his hands into the pockets of the worn black hoodie that hung off his frame, soon disappearing into the approaching night.</p><p>San blinked. For a moment, he felt like leaving his car and <em>talking</em> to the other male, just for reality to quickly sink in. <em>Why were you just watching him? Stop being so fucking creepy</em>.</p><p>San shut his eyes, trying not to think about Rihyeon's threat or that unknown boy, yet they still invaded his thoughts.</p><p>Something rapped against the window, pulling San right out of his daydream. He swung his head to the side and there Jongho was, grinning at him like he knew all his deepest thoughts and desires.</p><p>San's hard frown made a reappearance. "You <em>startled me.</em> What the heck was that?"</p><p>Jongho beamed, and San didn't know how someone could look so chirpy and smiley around this time of night. He envied him. "Thought it would've been fun catching you unaware."</p><p>San scoffed, drumming his fingers over the wheel while Jongho hurried to the passenger's seat as swiftly as he could, considering the blue cast wrapped around his left arm.</p><p>"I just don't get it," San began once Jongho managed to fit the things he bought on top his lap. "Don't get why you couldn't just make Yunho your driver instead of me."</p><p>"Oh don't be so difficult, San." <em>That adjective again</em>. "You know why I couldn't bring Yuyu along with me. He's at his parents', and of course, I want to surprise him when he returns with everything he likes."</p><p>San fought the urge to roll his eyes at the nickname Jongho had called his supposed boyfriend by. Endearing or not, San barely knew the guy and hadn't spoken a single word with him. But it didn't matter anyway; Jongho's personal life was none of his business.</p><p>"Yeah, okay," San replied, reversing out into the road. A tiny part of him wondered which direction that boy went. "But you contacted me in the <em>morning</em>, and here it is, nearly six in the evening. But then again, it's my fault for choosing to listen to you."</p><p>"Hey." Jongho raised his working arm in surrender. "What's so wrong with wanting to hang out with my baby brother?"</p><p>San laughed, short and harsh. "More like: what's so wrong with using my perfectly capable brother who -- <em>coincidentally</em> -- drives a car to become my personal chauffeur while I'm currently unable to do so?"</p><p>"San."</p><p>"No need to deny it. You never spend time with me after work anyway."</p><p>"Because you always disappear off when I try to <em>talk</em> to you," Jongho exclaimed, letting out an exasperated breath. "And when I <em>do</em> make plans to see you, you leave me hanging, making up some excuse as to why you didn't show up. You've never bothered showing interest in what I did outside Choi's Highlight."</p><p>San's grip on the steering wheel tightened as he drove in the opposite direction of the bakery. His heart thumping dangerously under his chest, he remarked lowly, "Says the guy who turns up his nose at everything I do in my spare time. I hate having you around sometimes, hyung. You suck the fun out of <em>everything</em>."</p><p>Jongho's brows furrowed. It was obvious he found San's words incorrect, and was probably planning on twisting them to make himself look like the better person.</p><p>"You can't blame me for thinking that way, not when you almost got caught with drugs in your possession just <em>months</em> before graduating high school." <em>Bingo</em>.</p><p>"Don't worry," San's smirk was hollow. "I'm not your drug-obsessed baby brother anymore. God knows how <em>embarrassed</em> you were of me because of it."</p><p>"San, stop it," Jongho warned.</p><p>"What? Is it not true?" San clenched his jaw, blood racing to his ears. The road in front of them looked endless, a sea of black that spiralled into the unknown. "You even told that to my face a couple times before."</p><p>"<em>Jesus</em>, San," Jongho hissed, fingers curled so tightly over his thigh they turned pale. "That was in the past. I already apologized -- countless times. I said I was sorry, and I still am. You're the one who's still convinced that everyone hates you."</p><p>San turned a corner, head spinning with rage. "Don't they? Even you. Even <em>dad</em>. Everyone thinks I'm not fit to work where I am and <em>everyone</em> thinks I don't deserve to associate myself with you. You even said it yourself. Why work in my father's company when I'm just slacking off, buying and spending uselessly?"</p><p>"Because I know you can do <em>so much</em> <em>better</em>, San!" Jongho spat. "You got such good grades in school, but dad and I didn't say a thing when you dropped out of college -- "</p><p>"You know fully well that dad only cares about his <em>dear</em> elder son taking over his business empire."</p><p>"<em>We</em> overlooked the shit you did and the trouble you got us in," Jongho continued despite San's bitter words, and it drove the younger <em>mad</em>. "I saw how stressed out your classes made you, and cared for you as much as I could when you struggled to navigate through work when dad couldn't. I even put you in one of the best rehabilitation centers in the country to help you overcome your drug addiction and get you back on your feet. So why <em>wouldn't</em> I get angry when you keep getting drunk and going to bed with everything that moves?"</p><p>The atmosphere drastically soured, and <em>fuck</em>, San could feel something in his heart breaking. His chest felt heavy, like it'd been trampled mercilessly upon, making each inhale excruciating. He blinked away the tears that threatened to drip down his cheeks, cursing himself for being so goddamned <em>pathetic</em>.</p><p>"I'm so sorry, San," Jongho spoke. The fire in his stare had extinguished, eyes plagued with guilt and worry. But the damage had already been done. "I don't know what came over me. It's just... I've had a hard time lately with everything." A pause. "I really wish you'd come visit dad with me once in a while."</p><p>San swallowed down the painful lump in his throat. He inhaled a large breath, his lungs crumpling. "What's the point? For someone who keeps forgetting who I am, he sure doesn't like me being around."</p><p>San could still remember his most recent visit to that long-term care facility. How could he not when his own father had verbally expressed his dissatisfaction seeing him time and time again?</p><p>"That's not true."</p><p>San had to chuckle, even though he felt like he was dying on the inside. "Okay."</p><p>"San, stop being like this."</p><p>"Don't you <em>dare</em> say another word," San said, taking a roundabout. He couldn't wait to drop Jongho at his and his boyfriend's summer house and finally have some peace. "I'm begging you. I don't want to hear anything else."</p><p>It was clear Jongho wanted to say more, but fortunately, he kept his lips sealed. San felt relieved, because he wasn't sure how long he would've held on without crying if the man had continued on the topic.</p><p>For a while, there was silence, which San was grateful for. He ignored every concerned glance Jongho shot his way, not wanting to acknowledge how miserable he probably appeared.</p><p>"...You're the first person I'm telling this to, but uh," Jongho rubbed his neck. "I'm going to propose to Yunho this Christmas."</p><p>San gulped, heart skipping a beat. "That's good. I hope he says yes."</p><p>"I hope so too," Jongho smiled, fidding with the golden ring on his right hand. "We'll get married overseas if everything goes well. And I...I want you to be my best man."</p><p>The lump in San's throat grew. He forced on a smile. "I think Kim Hongjoong would be better suited for that."</p><p>Jongho chuckles. "Nah. I want you there with me. Hongjoong can like, go as your date or something."</p><p>San immediately grimaced, choking on his spit. "No way."</p><p>"He told me he's into you."</p><p>"<em>No he didn't.</em>"</p><p>"Fine. He didn't," Jongho admitted, grinning at San. "But both of you work in the same department anyway. It wouldn't hurt to, you know..."</p><p>"<em>No</em>, hyung."</p><p>"Alright, alright."</p><p>San seriously couldn't wait to head back to his hotel room and get himself lost in his thoughts again. With that in mind, he drove a little faster down the noiseless highway.</p><p>"Would be nice if you drove a little less recklessly," Jongho commented, but there wasn't anything mean in his tone. Only advice. "I'm holding a cake, after all."</p><p>"That cake can go shove it."</p><p>Jongho laughed, staring at his brother with kind eyes. "Hey, San -- "</p><p>San never got to hear what he wanted to say. He lurched forward as something crashed against the side of the car, and then he was spinning, a pain he'd never experienced before tearing through his right shoulder like a wild animal's bite.</p><p>He didn't know what was going on. Thick smoke tainted the air and his eyes watered, the nauseating tang of burnt metal and fresh blood making him want to throw up. His head hurt.</p><p>His bleary eyes opened as his limbs felt stapled to the ignition, and there Jongho laid, perfectly still like he was sleeping. Half of his face was smeared with blood. So much blood.</p><p>San wanted to <em>scream</em>, wanted to shout for help, but nothing came out. He couldn't even <em>move</em>, forever caged to a body that ceased to listen to him while he watched his older brother, who he'd been been talking to just <em>moments</em> before, dying in front of him.</p><p>He convinced himself Jongho was just asleep, not once allowing himself to believe otherwise even as he lost consciousness, shutting out the sirens blaring in the distance.</p><p>San yelps and then he's awake, heaving to retain all the oxygen he's lost. The scar stretching across his right shoulder throbs, a reminder of the torture he'd endured those two years ago.</p><p>His trembling hands fist the material of his shirt, his heartbeat roaring against his eardrums. He feels like he's lost total control of his body; like he's back in that car, trapped to one place as he watched the person he loved dearly lose himself before his very eyes.</p><p>San doesn't make an effort to stop the teardrops streaming down his face, shoulders hunched as he tries to make himself smaller than he really is. Maybe then he can hide away; pretend he doesn't exist.</p><p>The blankets rustle, a shadow rising from where they'd previously laid beside him. It takes San a moment to recognize Wooyoung's tired face through his foggy vision, and as soon as he does he turns away, not wanting the younger to catch him in this state.</p><p>"...San?" Wooyoung's voice is soft, but it easily breaks through the screeching tires and shattered windows. San stiffens when he feels something warm filling in the space between his fingers. "Are you okay?"</p><p>San makes the move to wipe off his tears, disgusted with himself when even <em>more</em> of them drown his cheeks.</p><p>The piercing shriek of metal hitting metal rips into his head right then, and his heart drops. He recoils in terror, slapping his hands over his ears to get it to <em>stop</em>. He wants it to stop.</p><p>"San," Wooyoung calls out. He isn't touching him anymore, but his presence remains, a steady anchor inside the storm called his thoughts. "San, it's okay. Whatever you're seeing or hearing right now isn't real. You're -- you're safe. With me."</p><p>"I'm going to die."</p><p>"<em>No</em>. No you're not." Wooyoung sounds more strained, but his voice is still a calm whisper. It loosens the knots in San's stomach. "You're here with me right now, on your bed. We're both safe. I won't let you get hurt."</p><p>Deep inside San's ears, he can still hear the whirring sirens, can still see his brother's bloodied face and still feel strange hands tugging him into several directions. They haunt him, intent on ridding him of his life, but with Wooyoung there, they don't seem as scary.</p><p>"You're perfectly fine. <em>I'm</em> fine too, see?" Wooyoung cups San's chin and turns him to his face, his thumb soft and cautious. "Just take deep breaths. And focus on me. One..."</p><p>Blood clings to San's nostrils, grappling his head with images of his and Jongho's bodily injuries. Yet, he wills them away despite how difficult it is, hand clasped over Wooyoung's as he guides him into breathing properly again.</p><p>San's eyes fall on Wooyoung's face. His eyes are brown and ashy green under this light, framed by luscious lashes and exuding comfort and <em>familiarity</em>. The mole under his left eye's still there, complementing his nose and lips, the lovely cupid's bow pink and inviting.</p><p><em>Yes, Wooyoung's here</em>, San thinks. <em>He's really here. He's not going to leave</em>. His eyes trace from the gentle slope of his bare shoulders to his exposed chest and arms, awed once again by his sheer beauty.</p><p>The hazy moonlight spills over Wooyoung's face and his naked bronzed skin, making him glow, and San can't believe this man is truly <em>his</em>.</p><p>San reaches for his face without thinking, but Wooyoung stays still. His breath audibly hitches as San runs his fingers across his lips, and when San pulls him into a hug he reciprocates it.</p><p>"You're okay, Sannie."</p><p>San doesn't want to let him go, hands woven into his silky hair.</p><p>"D'you wanna go back to sleep?"</p><p>San thinks of screeching tires and his brother's frozen body, and quickly shakes his head. He feels like he's imagining it, but Wooyoung's body sags a little.</p><p>"...Okay. What do you wanna do, then?"</p><p>"W-We can go back to sleep," San retracts his statement. "You're tired."</p><p>"No," Wooyoung shakes his head, lazily sifting his fingers through San's hair. San completely melts into his touch, wanting nothing else other than this. "I'm fine. We're taking care of you tonight."</p><p>San chuckles, a pleasant shiver shooting up his spine at the feel of Wooyoung's hands in his hair. "Thank you."</p><p>"Any suggestions on how we can spend the time?" Wooyoung asks, planting a kiss to San's neck.</p><p>San doesn't move, allowing the younger man to pepper kisses over his skin. He loves it; just like he loves anything that has to do with Wooyoung. "Um..." he tilts his head, smiling into the kiss Wooyoung offers him. "Can you read me a bedtime story?"</p><p>A second passes, but it's a second <em>too</em> long and nervousness claws San's stomach, making him wish he'd never uttered that suggestion out loud. "We can do something else -- "</p><p>Wooyoung shushes him with a kiss on his nose. It's a little strange since Wooyoung isn't one to show physical affection so often, but it warms his heart all the same. He really likes it.</p><p>"I'll read you a story," Wooyoung says. Now that San's directly facing him, he notices the purplish undertone to the younger's eyes. He really looks like he needs a nap. "Where do you keep all your books?"</p><p>"You sure you don't wanna sleep?"</p><p>"<em>After</em> you're comfortable," is Wooyoung's reply. He has no idea of the way San's adoration for him grows by that mere statement.</p><p>"Um... I keep the books in the room to the left of the walk-in closet."</p><p>Wooyoung hesitates a bit, before eventually slipping out of the bed. "Bet you have a whole ass <em>library</em> in there. What kind of books would you want me to read?"</p><p>"Classics are nice." San can't stop himself from appreciating Wooyoung's figure. He's lean all around, but he's also <em>so soft</em>, the missing piece that completes San's puzzle. Perfect.</p><p>Wooyoung catches him staring, but he doesn't drop his gaze, unabashed.</p><p>"Pervert." The tip of Wooyoung's ears are cherry red.</p><p>"You're so pretty. I can't help it."</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't answer, soon disappearing into the wide wardrobe, and San waits, tucking himself under his fluffy duvet with the tiny smiling owls on it. The effect is instant; San feels himself entering a headspace where everything's a lot more peaceful and serene.</p><p>And when Wooyoung arrives in a silken pink robe that hugs his curves in all the right places, a bunch of books in hand, San kind of feels like he's in paradise.</p><p>"Take your pick," Wooyoung spreads the books across the nightstand. San resists the urge to drag him into his arms.</p><p>San takes <em>Jane Eyre</em>. "It's one of my favourites."</p><p>Wooyoung smiles, wide enough to showcase his dimples. "I like it too. Though I only read it like, once in middle school." He laughs at this, and San joins him.</p><p>"Never took you to be the type who likes reading," San says. Yes, Wooyoung may be the mysterious 'brooding' type, but that didn't mean he enjoys spending his time with his nose between a book.</p><p>"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, San."</p><p>It's meant to be a joke, the way Wooyoung said it, but it catches San off-guard because it's <em>true</em>. He doesn't know much about who Jung Wooyoung is on the inside, and it makes him a little sad.</p><p>"Well," he pouts, "you can tell me everything."</p><p>Wooyoung giggles, but it sounds more like a snicker. He falls into the space next to San, opening up the novel. "There's a lot of bad parts to my story, San. A lot if things that don't necessarily make me out to be the best person. And they're not interesting or groundbreaking either, not like this book."</p><p>"It doesn't matter," San replies, meaning every word. "I don't think I can ever hate you."</p><p>Wooyoung looks at him, his questioning mismatched eyes reminiscent of stardust. San can't look away. "I'm unlikable."</p><p>"You aren't."</p><p>"Yes I am," Wooyoung presses, and all of a sudden San remembers the way he made himself believe that too, once upon a time. "Say that to all those people who've fucked me over or blew me off just for breathing."</p><p>"That's because they're <em>assholes. </em>Not everyone's like that. Some people actually care about you, even if it's hard to believe at times," San tells Wooyoung, the fight in his eyes reminding him of <em>himself</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung narrows his eyes, but they aren't even staring at the older. Instead, they're somewhere else, far out of San's reach. "Sure."</p><p>"I care a lot about you, Wooyoung," San says, because Wooyoung's flippant attitude alarms him and he wants nothing more than for the younger to believe that he means <em>something</em>.</p><p>That he means the world to him.</p><p>The aggression in Wooyoung's eyes crumbles, giving way to the recognizable affliction below. He's been <em>hurt</em>, San realizes, treated unfairly by everyone he's come across. The mask of indifference he wears is his shield, hardened under years and years of getting shunned by the people who were supposed to support him. San gets it. <em>He really gets it</em>.</p><p>"I'm adopted," San begins, lowering his gaze when Wooyoung watches him. "Isn't exactly something I go about telling others, so consider yourself lucky I guess. Anyway, I found that out after doing some digging around, and I soon regretted it because it made me feel like I didn't <em>deserve</em> everything I'd gotten. Like, I figured if my actual parents didn't want me enough to <em>keep</em> me, then who would?"</p><p>Wooyoung says nothing, but his eyes are on San the whole time. And San's sort of thankful, because he doesn't know what he would've done if Wooyoung <em>had</em> tried to verbally console him.</p><p>"Landed me in a bunch of fights with my father and older brother." At this, San feels his heartache. "I didn't like the life I'd been handed, even when I knew I should've been grateful. We never saw eye-to-eye -- they were too strict -- and <em>of course</em>, when I became a teenager, I started to sneak out at night to stay away from them."</p><p>Wooyoung smiles, his eyes more alert. "<em>Really</em>? You sneaking out of the house? I don't believe you."</p><p>"That's 'cause I was an entirely different person back then," San says, because it's true. Part of him wants him to feel ashamed of talking about this side of him with Wooyoung, of all people, but he doesn't allow it. "I smoked, drank, did all kinds of drugs, had sex with whoever could distract me for the time being. I became the typical fuckboy I swore I would never be.</p><p>"Things got worse when my brother started to catch on. He's five years older than me, and was often busy with Choi's Highlight by the time I became a senior in high school."</p><p>Wooyoung still doesn't say anything, his arms around San's waist all the confirmation he ever needed.</p><p>"Dad married and had my brother late," San continues, and it's at this part that the butterflies in his tummy start turning into wasps. "So, when -- well, when he started having lapses in his memory, forgetting where and <em>who</em> he was..."</p><p>"Hey, you don't need to add anything else," Wooyoung speaks up, resting San's head on his chest. He holds him like he's the taller, bigger man of the two, and San treasures it.</p><p>"I soon realized I should've been a better son to him. Though he isn't my biological dad, he's supported me more than my real dad ever did. M-My brother too, Jongho hyung -- " San breathes, fisting Wooyoung's robe. "I should've been nicer to him too. Maybe...maybe then I won't have to feel so <em>goddamned terrible</em> whenever I go visit him at the hospital."</p><p>"Hospital?" Wooyoung says, brows raising.</p><p>"Yeah." San sniffs, hating how stuffy his nose feels. "Remember that accident I told you about? Management kept it under wraps. At least he's minimally conscious now."</p><p>Wooyoung tenses. "Oh my god. I'm so sorry."</p><p>"Nope, none of that," San laughs, hoping that doing so would lessen the burden on his heart. "I'm not saying this to make you feel sad. I just...I want you to be able to see that there are people who <em>do</em> care for you in their own way. My brother did, and my father did too. They both cared about me, but I...I never showed them my gratitude. I never expressed how much I loved them and how <em>lucky</em> I was to have them in my life. I waited too late."</p><p>"San..." Wooyoung's trembling like a leaf, holding on to him for dear life.</p><p>"I wish I'd gotten more time. But that's the way life works sometimes, doesn't it?" San's composure cracks, an unhappy smile breaking through. "You never know what'll hit you until it does."</p><p>"I'm so sorry, hyung," Wooyoung whispers, but San shakes his head.</p><p>"Don't apologize." San leans his head against Wooyoung's, memorizing every detail of the splendid man in front of him. Minute or not, he likes them all as they make the smaller who he is. "Just... don't hesitate in putting yourself out there and taking chances. Speak your mind, love fully. There are people out there who would <em>love</em> to get to know you better. I'd know; I'm one of them. I'll support you."</p><p><em>I love you</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung's lips quiver. "What are you saying? <em>Why</em>? I haven't done a single thing for you, and -- and yet you keep looking at me as if you'd <em>die</em> without me."</p><p>"I think that's a pretty accurate assumption," San teases, though his heart is racing a mile a minute. "I mean, I've liked you for a while now. You make me truly <em>happy</em>; something I haven't felt like in a long time."</p><p>The sweetest shade of pink lights up Wooyoung's face, and San falls deeper. "...Since when?"</p><p>"Hm?"</p><p>"S-Since when have you liked me?"</p><p>"When you bought me those snacks and played that video game with me," San answers, grinning at the memory. "At first, I thought that maybe you'd done so out of you wanting me to forgive you, but then I realized you could've just said sorry without getting me anything."</p><p>He reaches for Wooyoung's hand, entwining their fingers. "You cared. That was all it took for me to start having feelings for you."</p><p>Wooyoung bites his lip, running his thumb along the bumps of San's knuckles. "<em>So</em>."</p><p>"<em>So</em>..."</p><p>Wooyoung hastily rubs his eyes, trying to make his tears not as obvious. He silently giggles when San pokes his cheek, only to grimace a second later. "I -- I took your words to heart. Let's go on a real date."</p><p>San feels like he's about to burst into fireworks. "With that expression?"</p><p>"San."</p><p>"If we date, then that means you're willing to be my boyfriend...?"</p><p>Wooyoung's grimace hardens. "Yes."</p><p>San grins so wide it nearly splits his face in half. "Cool."</p><p>"Cool." Wooyoung fiddles with the sleeves of his loose robe, unsure of how else to react.</p><p>"What about that story?"</p><p>"Oh." Wooyoung picks up the forgotten novel. "This?"</p><p>San shakes his head, chuckling at the younger's confused face. "No. <em>Your</em> story."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. choi san is too much</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>tw: suicide attempt</em>
</p><p>
  <em>and guys, woo's story is the flashbacks you'</em>
  <em>ve</em>
  <em> been reading all this time</em>
</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>
      <em>《 and i have to wonder</em>
    </b>
    <br/>
    <b>
      <em>if this life's truly the right </em>
    </b>
    <br/>
    <b>
      <em>one</em>
    </b>
    <b>
      <em> for me 》</em>
    </b>
  </p>
</div><p><br/><em>July 10</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung stared at the worn calendar duct-taped to the dull grey wall of his one bedroom apartment. The date was harshly crossed over in red highlight marker, the colour stark against the white surface.</p><p>Wooyoung hitched a low breath, shoving his hands into the pocket of his trousers. <em>Today's the day</em>.</p><p>He'd never really planned for it to go this way, nor for today's date to be the end. In fact, he'd blindly chose July as it was in the summer, swearing a couple months earlier he wouldn't go along with it if he'd managed to pull himself together by then.</p><p>Obviously, he'd failed. But it was alright; he wouldn't have the chance to fail anymore after today.</p><p>Wooyoung shut the calendar and threw it on his unmade bed, not wanting to look at it anymore.</p><p>Brows pinched, he raked his fingers down his hair, and when he caught sight of himself on the small mirror to his side, chuckles broke out of him.</p><p>He observed his face through the eyes he came to despise, down to his nose and stretched lips. It fascinated him how he could laugh when he felt so empty on the inside.</p><p>"I won't have to see your face again," Wooyoung whispered, grinning like a madman. "Today is the last time I'm going to look at you." He took a step back. <em>Goodbye</em>.</p><p>Head overwhelmed with thoughts as loud as the rainfall that pierced the earth earlier this morning, Wooyoung pushed himself out of the apartment before something could stop him.</p><p>The sound of the door getting locked echoed in tandem with his heartbeat, and for a second, Wooyoung had to rest against the door for support. He inhaled a quick, shallow breath, fingers digging into his knees. He felt like his legs were turning into jello.</p><p>All around him, life continued on as normal. Large streetlamps struck honeyed yellow into the dark, casting halos everywhere he looked. To Wooyoung's right laid houses identical to his, their windows lit with shadows of people blissfully unaware of what he was going to do soon. Some kid kicked a football his way, but raced for it before he could return it back. Not that he'd wanted to, anyway.</p><p>Wooyoung began walking, sneakers scuffing across the pavement and into the asphalt road. Surprised he'd even made it this far without stumbling, he looked up at the sky, the distant voices of his neighbours fading into the background.</p><p>A dreamy lilac filled his vision, complete with tiny sparkling stars that seemed <em>endless</em> from where Wooyoung stood. It was pretty; one of the prettiest skies Wooyoung had ever seen in his lifetime. A bitter smirk pulled at his lips at the irony of it all.</p><p>Wooyoung continued walking, pissed he'd gotten distracted by the <em>sky,</em> of all things.</p><p>With every minute that passed, Wooyoung found it a little easier to move. By the time he reached his destination, he stopped, anxiety shooting from his heart straight down to his toes.</p><p>Up ahead stood a congregation of bushes that'd been parted after several intrusions, revealing the dirt-path underneath. What appeared to others as a less than ideal location to hike was like a second home to Wooyoung; an exit when he needed some seclusion from the outside world.</p><p>And now he was back, ready to use it again.</p><p>After checking that nobody else was around him -- though it was unlikely since this place was unknown to most people here anyway -- Wooyoung climbed up the threshold, careful not to slip. Dust picked up behind him with every step he took, staining his already dirtied sneakers, but Wooyoung couldn't care less.</p><p>Indigo swirled into the sky, darkening it. The stars were barely visible over the thick, crooked canopy of trees surrounding him, the moon a clean-cut crescent sequined into the center.</p><p>Wooyoung pulled out his phone and switched on its flashlight, using it to guide him along the path he needed to head to. By this time, his heart had steadied into a comfortable hum, now as prepared as he was for the inevitable.</p><p>A lump settled in Wooyoung's throat at the sound of gushing water, mixing in with the heavy tang of earth and mildew. He managed to smile though, despite what it now meant for him. Now, there was no going back.</p><p>There were two paths in front of him. The bigger one to the right led deeper into the forest. The left, however, was the one he frequently used, his feet already following the familiar trail.</p><p>The weariness in his joints was a feeling he was very used to; a welcome hug. His legs burned and his lungs ached, warm droplets of sweat rolling down his neck, but sensation went all but ignored as Wooyoung picked up his pace, not a second to spare.</p><p>The weight on his chest immediately lifted when the salty smell of the river clung to his senses. The downpour of water was almost deafening, but in the good kind of way. Here, Wooyoung was practically immune to his thoughts. Here, he was alone, just like he always was, balanced between life and death.</p><p>The cliff looked a lot less <em>hopeless</em> the last time Wooyoung saw it, its elongated curve chipped in certain areas and thinned under the unforgiving weather.</p><p>Despite its unsightly state, a few flowers grew on the edge, a splash of colour unfolding in the midst of despair. Wooyoung sometimes played with their petals as he meditated, but he wasn't here for that today.</p><p>The choatic river slammed itself over the large rocks below, as anxious as Wooyoung felt. The water looked muddy beneath the moon, reminding him of inky tears. How fitting, he thought, considering the tears streaming down his face. He didn't bother wiping them off.</p><p>One move and he'd be falling, and with the height of the cliff itself, he'd most likely die, which was what he wanted.</p><p>He couldn't believe he was really going to do this. But then again, he'd expected that this was going to happen sooner or later. In fact, he couldn't believe he'd made it this far without offing himself.</p><p>It was weird how <em>silent</em> Wooyoung's head was at that moment. He'd always imagined his mind would try to convince him otherwise with him being so <em>close</em> to death, but he guessed he'd dodged a bullet there. He didn't need himself reevaluating his decisions when he was determined to die; that would only waste his time.</p><p>Sniffing, he took a step forward, ready to descend. <em>I guess this is it</em>.</p><p>His phone <em>pinged</em>, the recognizable notification of a new text message. Wooyoung blew out a breath, intent on ignoring it.</p><p>Another one entered. And then another.</p><p>Unable to take it anymore, he glanced at the screen, only for regret to gnaw on him from the inside when he saw who those texts were from.</p><p>- <b>mother</b><br/><em>Wooyoung, where are you?</em></p><p>- <b>mother</b><br/><em>I went to the apartment and called your name, but you weren't there.</em></p><p>- <b>mother</b><br/><em>Tell me where you are. I need to see you</em>.</p><p>The tightness in Wooyoung's chest worsened until he felt like he was being squeezed to death. His heartbeat was erratic, matching with the storming water down below.</p><p>He nearly jumped when his mother's caller ID popped across the screen, its bright font an eyesore. Too distraught to even do a thing, he let the call go unanswered.</p><p>- <b>mother</b><br/><em>For the last time, where are you?</em></p><p>Fingers shaking, Wooyoung forced himself to click on the keypad, hoping to somehow formulate a message that looked comprehensible enough.</p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>why do i need to answer you anytime you call for me?</em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>its sickening</em></p><p>- <b>mother</b><br/><em>How dare you?</em></p><p>- <b>mother</b><br/><em>Five minutes. That's how much longer I'm going to wait around for. No later.</em></p><p>An unrecognizable, disbelieving laugh bubbled out of Wooyoung right then. Of course; what else did he expect when it came to his mother?</p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>No</em>.</p><p>- <b>mother</b><br/><em>Wooyoung</em><em>!</em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>i don't have any money to give to you. not now, not ever</em><br/><em>stop trying to control my life!</em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>i barely make enough as is!</em><br/><em>why can't you understand??</em></p><p>- <b>mother</b><br/><em>Don't talk to me like that! I am your mother, young man</em></p><p>- <b>mother</b><br/><em>For once stop acting so selfish and inconsiderate</em></p><p>Wooyoung's frustration was eating him up alive; the pain was too much. He felt he was dying even though he still breathed, a pressurized container ready to explode into nuclear fury.</p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>i'm not the selfish and inconsiderate one here, mother</em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>it was a mistake ever helping you out.</em><br/><em>ever since dad left and i started to work, all you did was take and take until i had nothing left. and i let you, because you were my mom. but not anymore</em></p><p>- <b>mother</b><br/><em>You and your father are the same</em><br/><em>Utterly useless</em>.</p><p>Something wet slid over the screen right then. It took a second for Wooyoung realize he was crying again.</p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>sorry then</em><br/><em>for being so useless</em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b> <br/><em>but don't worry</em><br/><em>you </em><em>wont</em><em> have to see me again after tonight</em></p><p>A few seconds passed with no response from his mother, but Wooyoung waited with bated breaths.</p><p>- <b>mother</b><br/><em>Don't tell me you're going to kill yourself like you tried to do when you were fifteen</em></p><p>- <b>mother</b><br/><em>You're nineteen now. Get your life together</em></p><p>- <b>mother</b><br/><em>Do you need attention that badly? Do you want to start living with me again? What the hell do you want, </em><em>Wooyoung</em><em>? Because I'</em><em>ve</em><em> tried enough to raise you into a proper son, not someone deranged and mentally ill.</em></p><p>- <b>mother</b><br/><em>I just don't understand you</em></p><p>Wooyoung's legs gave way, sinking him to his knees.</p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>fuck you</em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>i hate you so much!</em><br/><em>you ruined me</em><br/><em>you and dad</em></p><p>- <b>mother</b><br/><em>No. You ruined yourself</em>.</p><p>- <b>mother</b><br/><em>If you want to die that badly, then do it.</em><br/><em>What's stopping you? You'</em><em>ve</em><em> been a burden to me since the day you were born. I tried to love you, I really tried, but you keep disappointing me.</em></p><p>- <b>mother</b><br/><em>You make me miserable</em>.</p><p>Pain, excruciating and unbearable, tore into Wooyoung's heart, ripping it apart. He felt hollow, nothing but flesh and bones as he tried to process his mother's texts. Despite being exposed to the woman's vulgar words since he was a kid, it really <em>hurt</em> this time around.</p><p><em>Am I that horrible? What did I ever do to you other than treat you like my mom?</em> Wooyoung sniffled, having to wipe his eyes over and over again to get rid of the tears blocking his sight.</p><p>"<em>Every child deserves a parent, but not every parent deserves a child.</em>" The words of the nurse who'd tended to him in eight grade echoed in his mind like a ripple on a pond. He'd gotten in some silly little fight with a kid who'd stolen his pencil, resulting in a cut on his lip and a future meeting with his parents.</p><p>She'd stared at him, her eyes friendly, but Wooyoung couldn't hold her gaze for the life of him, too scared since his parents were going to get involved.</p><p>"<em>I can only hope yours are treating you well?</em>" She continued. "<em>If they aren't, you can always come talk to me about it. Or, even when you feel sad and don't have anyone to talk to. You know I'm also the counselor</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung could only sputter lies about how his parents were good people, because back then, he'd wanted to believe it <em>so badly</em>.</p><p>How naive he'd been.</p><p>With all the strength he could muster, he brought himself back on his feet. He could tell his mother was still on the other side of the screen, waiting for him to say something so she could deepen his wounds.</p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>stay miserable then, because im not going to die. </em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>i hope my existence continues to bring you the same amount of pain you'</em><em>ve</em><em> caused me</em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>i hope me being alive makes you as unhappy as you'</em><em>ve</em><em> made me.</em><br/><em>i hope you stay miserable and bitter and hurt for the rest of your life mother</em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>you deserve nothing less</em>.</p><p>Instantly, his phone became bombarded with angry texts from the woman who gave birth to him, but he ignored all of them. He blocked her seconds later.</p><p>The water sloshed rapidly below, beckoning to him.</p><p>"Not today," Wooyoung muttered, putting more space between him and the cliff. He breathed in and out, looking at the night sky. By now, most of the stars had gone, save for a couple that shone like jewels in the dark.</p><p>Wooyoung smiled. "Guess you guys are all I have now, huh?"</p><p>They didn't answer back, of course, but it was okay. Their presence was the reassurance he needed.</p><p>He wasn't alone.</p><p>As Wooyoung enters his past neighbourhood, hands hidden inside his pockets, the memories of the past resurface. And it's annoying, because it's certainly not something he wants to think about this afternoon.</p><p>The street's the same; empty and desolate around this time of day, the vibrant orange sky shining down on the area.</p><p>It's a bit <em>nostalgic</em> in a sense, although it hasn't been that long since he left. The trees lined by the bus stop, the stretch of grass where Mrs Lee used to sell lemonade before she moved out, the rundown basketball court down to the east which was made into a camping spot for the kids after they were done with school. Everywhere Wooyoung looked was a past memory unlocked; a glimpse into the life he used to have.</p><p>Though he'd never engaged much with the people here, he could remember the faces of every single one of them, a sentence in his story.</p><p>When Wooyoung comes across his old house, he can't help but stare at it for a while, wondering if someone new was now inhabiting it. He hopes they aren't; his landlady had been downright terrible to work with, and the place was pure shit on top of that.</p><p>Tearing his eyes off the residential building, Wooyoung ambles towards the house closest to it, heart in his throat.</p><p><em>Will he be home at this hour</em>? Wooyoung thinks. He chews on his bottom lip, so fucking <em>nervous</em> for no reason.</p><p>Trampling over the thoughts that make him want to back out of this whole thing, he presses on the doorbell, quickly recoiling as if he'd been bitten by it afterwards.</p><p>"Stop <em>freaking out</em>," he mumbles, but can't stop himself from worrying when he doesn't hear a response. He contemplates pressing the doorbell again, and he's about to do so when the door abruptly swings open, shocking him.</p><p>And, because Wooyoung's nothing but a huge idiot, he stumbles on something, and then he loses his footing, about to land on the ground and embarrass himself further.</p><p>An arm reaches out and grabs his elbow, spinning him until his head hits a chest. He winces at the force, so fucking disoriented.</p><p>"Oops! I'm so sorry!" A voice comments, deep and notably surprised. "Are you okay?"</p><p>Wooyoung nods, inhaling a whiff of fruit and...cookies. "Yeah. Yeah -- I'm fine."</p><p>"Sorry for holding you so roughly." He gets let go. "I didn't want you falling. Those steps can be brutal to someone's butt."</p><p>Despite himself, Wooyoung has to laugh. Lungs feeling like they've been bent in half, he positions himself against the porch, trying to regain his breath. He coughs. <em>Fuck</em>. "It's...it's okay."</p><p>"I seriously didn't expect I'd see you here today."</p><p>Wooyoung looks up, and there stands Yeosang. He doesn't look that much different, but his caramel shaded hair's been pulled back by a hair band, a smudge of what appears to be flour on his cheek.</p><p>"Um, sorry about that. I just -- I don't know -- <em>felt</em> like visiting you today...?" When Wooyoung meets chocolate brown eyes, he hurriedly looks away and clears his throat. "I can leave if you're busy."</p><p>Yeosang smiles as if the shorter hasn't blown him off for over two months; as if Wooyoung hasn't ignored him from the moment they met, really. "No, I'm not busy. I mean -- I <em>kinda</em> am, but not <em>too</em> busy that we can't talk." He chuckles at his words, gesturing at the door. "You can come in if you want."</p><p>Now, Wooyoung hadn't anticipated that. The plan was to say hi, converse with Yeosang a bit, and then leave. He knows he doesn't deserve the older's hospitality due to how he's treated him so far, so the man inviting him into his abode sort of stuns him.</p><p>"I can?" He mirrors, wanting to slap himself for how dumb he sounds.</p><p>"Yeah," Yeosang nods, grinning at Wooyoung's stupefied expression. "Do you have anything else planned for tonight?"</p><p>The question stops Wooyoung in his tracks. It's been a crazy three weeks into January, with him having to navigate through his monotonous classes once more, as well as having to deal with San's increasing absence. The older heads to Choi's Highlight early every morning, and barely has the time to interact with him before sleep or tiredness takes over. Of course, Wooyoung treasures every time spent with San dozing off in his arms, but seeing the man so busy and unavailable's doing something terrible to his self-esteem, no matter how much he tries to pretend it doesn't.</p><p>Wooyoung shakes his head. "No. Not really?"</p><p>Yeosang stares at him like he can see right through him. "How's everything? Like, your work and stuff."</p><p>"Work?"</p><p>"Yeah," Yeosang dusts off the light flour on his shirt. "You got a new job right? That's why you had to move?"</p><p>"Oh -- " Wooyoung blinks, flabbergasted as to how the taller knows that about him. "Yeah. Yeah, I got a new job. It's...very nice."</p><p>"That's good to hear," Yeosang replies. Now that Wooyoung looks closer, he can spot the pinkish mark adorning the left side of the guy's face, right below the eye. It's clearly a birthmark, and it's something Yeosang doesn't seem ashamed of in the slightest, considering he hasn't done anything to cover it.</p><p>"Oh, you noticed Glove?"</p><p>"What?" Wooyoung blurts. He finds Yeosang's eyes, and they're warm under the gradually setting sunlight, as golden as his hair colour. He averts his stare, a bit unnerved at how <em>picturesque</em> Yeosang is; like a celestial being gracing his lowly self. <em>What a stupid analogy</em>.</p><p>"I call my birthmark 'glove'," Yeosang states as if it's a totally normal thing to do. "'Cause it looks like a glove with its thumb down. See?" He raises his hand and copies the mark's shape, and <em>holy</em><em> shit</em>, Wooyoung does see it.</p><p>"It really looks like a glove."</p><p>"I know right?" Yeosang laughs. He opens the door wider. "I'm making dinner. Luckily, I <em>think</em> there's enough pot roast for the both of us."</p><p>As if on cue, the savory smell wafts out of the doorway. Yeosang's eyes flit over to Wooyoung's face, suggestive.</p><p>"Is that okay?" Wooyoung asks, licking his lips. He had no idea the other male could cook so well. "I mean, I thought you were making cookies."</p><p>"I am," Yeosang grins, waving him off. "They're for dessert."</p><p>"Oh." Wooyoung allows Yeosang to lead him inside, and in an instant he's faced with appetizing smells from every corner. His stomach grumbles at the hot plate of cookies sitting on the kitchen's countertop, but fortunately it isn't loud enough for Yeosang to hear.</p><p>"You can have a seat at the table," Yeosang's saying. As soon as his back is turned to Wooyoung, the man pats his tummy and tells it to <em>shut up</em>. "I'll finish up the food and go change into a more appropriate attire."</p><p>"I can help you with it," Wooyoung suggests. He can't help but observe the interior of the older's house. It's small, just like most apartments in this area, but it's comforting and cozy, similar to the freshly baked cookies in the kitchen. Unlike his previous house with its minimal furniture and chipped walls, Yeosang's feels like a <em>home</em>, enraptured with soft twinkling lights, neutral toned furnishings and walls a soothing buttermilk. It's nice.</p><p>"There's no need, Wooyoung," Yeosang refuses his offer, but he looks ecstatic that the younger bothered to ask. "You're my guest, after all, even though it <em>was</em> a bit sudden."</p><p>"Sorry."</p><p>"It's fine," Yeosang adds with a chuckle. "I'm just <em>really</em> glad you decided to come over. Here." To Wooyoung's shock, Yeosang hands him the tv remote. "Watch whatever you wanna watch while dinner's getting ready."</p><p>Wooyoung's mouth opens and closes with nothing coming out. He can't believe this is happening. Doesn't know why Yeosang's so nice to him despite him being so <em>standoffish</em> to the other. "Are -- are you <em>serious</em>?"</p><p>"Yes." Yeosang shrugs. "Do whatever you want. Well, with discretion, of course."</p><p>Wooyoung watches as Yeosang dashes into the kitchen, a skip to his step as he attends to the pots on the stove. <em>What is happening</em>?</p><p>He glances at the remote in his hand, and figures it won't hurt if he gives it a shot.</p><p>He ends up getting immersed in the <em>Outerbanks</em> series on Netflix, and when Yeosang eventually shows up with the food and drinks, taking the seat beside him, they watch it together, making commentary on it every once in a while.</p><p>"Why do the high schoolers always look like they're reaching thirty?" Yeosang contemplates out loud by the time they play episode five.</p><p>Wooyoung nearly chokes on his shot glass of citrus-flavoured soju, but shrugs nonetheless. "I dunno." He ushers out a soft <em>thanks</em> when Yeosang refills it for him, also adding another slice of beef onto his plate.</p><p>They watch in silence once more, but when the episode ends, Wooyoung doesn't make a move to start the next one. It attracts the older's attention.</p><p>"Wooyoung?"</p><p>"I think I'm forgetting something..." Wooyoung grumbles, fumbling for his phone, wherever it is. "It looks pretty dark out."</p><p>"Did you come here on bus?"</p><p>"Why? You wanna take me home?" Wooyoung questions, patting his clothes for the darned device. "<em>Where is it?</em> Sannie just got it for me, what the hell?"</p><p>"<em>Sannie</em>?" Yeosang asks, voice startling Wooyoung. The man doesn't sound baffled or astonished, however.</p><p>"Nothing." Wooyoung swallows down the rest of the soju, its sharp heat flushing his throat and chest. "It's nothing."</p><p>Yeosang laughs, low and stable. "It's Choi San, right?"</p><p>Wooyoung blinks repeatedly. "...What?"</p><p>The brown haired man leans closer, something like nervousness flashing in his eyes. "Listen, I... I know Kim Hongjoong and -- "</p><p>Wooyoung's coat buzzes as if it's been electrocuted. He feels the pockets before pulling the phone out. The lockscreen's full of messages from <em>San</em>, piling and piling on top of San's face (since he's the one who put his picture there anyway). Heat crawls over his cheeks when he spots Yeosang looking at it.</p><p>"Shit." Unlocking the phone with his clumsy thumbs, Wooyoung doesn't even have the time to properly read the messages because San's caller ID lights the screen right then. "<em>Fuck</em>."</p><p>"What's the matter?" Yeosang asks, his steady voice calming some of Wooyoung's nerves. "He doesn't know you're here?"</p><p>Wooyoung's too occupied with answering San's call to wonder how Yeosang knows all this, hurriedly pressing the phone to his ears. He stands and looks at the older, a little lightheaded. "Excuse me."</p><p>Yeosang nods. "I'll go put the plates in the dishwasher."</p><p>"<em>Wooyoung</em>?" San says as soon as Wooyoung leans against the sofa. He sounds worried -- <em>frantic</em> -- as if this is the last opportunity he has to talk to the younger. "<em>Is that you? Or is that someone else?</em>"</p><p>"Hey, Sannie, it's me." Wooyoung rubs his neck. "Sorry for not responding to your texts. Didn't realize I left the phone on vibrate."</p><p>"<em>I'm so glad you're okay</em>," San answers, inhaling a deep breath. "<em>I came home, and I didn't see you anywhere</em>. <em>I -- I freaked out and -- god, I don't know what came over me</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung shakes his head although San can't see him. "Hey, it's alright. I'm fine. Uh," he clears his throat. "I actually met the guy that used to be my neighbour today. He invited me to dinner, and it was nice. Sorry for not letting you know beforehand."</p><p>A pause. "<em>Oh</em>." San's tone is unreadable, something <em>different</em>. "<em>Okay. Who is he</em>?"</p><p>"Yeosang."</p><p>"<em>Oh</em>." Another weird, prolonged pause.</p><p>"San, are you okay?"</p><p>There's a sound coming from the other line, something close to a car door slamming shut. "<em>I'm fine. Are you done?</em>"</p><p>"Well," Wooyoung picks up on Yeosang stepping out of the kitchen area. "I think I am. I'll take the bus and..."</p><p>'<em>I can drive you back,</em>' Yeosang mouths.</p><p>"<em>Woo</em>?" San asks.</p><p>"Yeosang just suggested he'll take me back," Wooyoung replies.</p><p>"<em>I'm actually outside.</em>"</p><p>"What?" Wooyoung's eyes widen, afraid he heard San wrong.</p><p>"<em>I'm outside</em>," San repeats. "<em>Please, come out. I'</em><em>ll</em><em> take you back home</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung pushes open the door, the harsh cold hitting him head-on. Light snow shuffles down from the darkened skies, but even with that, Wooyoung can see the black SUV parked just across the road from Yeosang's house. And beside it, donned in a thick, white coat and grey beanie, is San, phone pressed to his ear.</p><p>The older sees him before long, face brightened with a wide grin. Wooyoung doesn't know what to feel.</p><p>"Oh, he's here," Yeosang says behind him, an amused lilt to his voice. If he notices the way San's smile dims at his presence, he doesn't let it show.</p><p>Embers of agitation burn inside Wooyoung as he turns off his phone and puts it back in his coat pocket. "Goodnight, Yeosang," he says, keeping his eyes on San the entire time.</p><p>"Night, Wooyoung. We should hang out again sometime," the taller answers, sincere. Wooyoung appreciates it. "I'm happy you showed up."</p><p>"We will." Snow grazes his skin as Wooyoung walks over to San, the night breeze sinking into his chest, but it's the look in the older's eyes that makes him shudder.</p><p>"Woo..." San touches his hand, but Wooyoung lets it drop.</p><p>"What are you doing here?"</p><p>San glances over his shoulder at Yeosang's apartment, his body soon relaxing. "We'll talk about it at home."</p><p>"<em>San</em>," Wooyoung states, staring into the older's eyes. His mind's racing with a million thoughts, all of them wanting answers. "How did you know I was with Yeosang when I never told you about meeting him? Do you <em>know</em> him?"</p><p>San's reply is instant. "I don't."</p><p>"Then how'd you find me?"</p><p>San's jaw clenches, but his eyes are soft, brimming with guilt. He holds the door to the SUV, avoiding Wooyoung's gaze. "I'll tell you when we get home."</p><p>Wooyoung's irritation grows, mixed in with this sort of dread that leaves him <em>nauseous</em>. "...Did you track me down using the phone you bought me?"</p><p>San looks down like a dog who's been kicked. "Wooyoung, enter. Please."</p><p>Wooyoung can't believe this is happening. "San... <em>Answer me</em>."</p><p>"I was <em>worried</em>, okay?" San says. "I was so fucking worried about you. I called, texted, but you never replied. I -- I got <em>scared</em>. It was like you'd disappeared. I didn't want anything happening to you."</p><p>Wooyoung swallows down the lump in his throat. "I would've returned eventually. Why would you follow me around without letting me know? Why would you <em>track me</em>?"</p><p>"Because I feared you'd <em>leave</em>," San whispers. When Wooyoung looks at him, his nose is pink, eyes bloodshot. He's suddenly brought back to the night on New Year's Eve. "I feared you'd leave me because you got tired of me. And when I located where you were, I... I thought -- "</p><p>"You thought I cheated." The words are bitter on Wooyoung's tongue. San's quietness does more harm than good, and he scoffs, so fucking <em>done</em>.</p><p>He starts to leave in the opposite direction, but he doesn't make it far before San rushes to him, holding his arm.</p><p>"W-Where are you going?" San asks, expression panicked.</p><p>"Taking a bus, or something. I'll see you later." It's a <em>miracle</em> how Wooyoung manages to keep his voice leveled.</p><p>"Wooyoung, don't do this."</p><p>"Why will I ever -- " Wooyoung sucks a sharp breath. "Come <em>on</em>, hyung. Do you even trust me <em>at all</em>? Why would I do that to you?"</p><p>"I-I'm sorry."</p><p>"Can I take a breather? I'm gonna take a breather. I don't think I can handle going back to your house with you tonight," Wooyoung says. Frustration and anger dwindling into ashes of disappointment, he takes out his phone and smacks it on-top San's trembling palm. "You won't need to track me down this time."</p><p>"Wooyoung, please, I'm sorry," San apologizes. "It was getting late and I needed you by my side and -- and I got <em>so afraid</em>. I didn't want to lose you."</p><p>"And that's why you decided to put a tracking device on my <em>phone</em>?" Wooyoung stares at the ground, and a sudden realization grapples him. "You got it for me at the start of this month. You were monitoring me since then."</p><p>"I wasn't <em>monitoring</em> you -- "</p><p>"Then what were you <em>doing</em>, then? I would <em>never</em> do something like that to you, because guess what? I actually <em>trusted</em> you."</p><p>"I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, Wooyoung-ah. Forgive me. Please."</p><p>Wooyoung stares at the older at that moment, at his glossy, desperate eyes, quivering lips and his broken disposition, and he can't believe he ever thought this person knew what he was doing.</p><p>Wooyoung averts his stare, because the more he watches San, the angrier he gets. He feels bad for him. "Go home, and go to bed. You need to be well-rested to function at work."</p><p>San pulls him close and kisses him right there, out in the open. Fingers cradling his face, lips eagerly moving against his. They're salty. "D-Don't go. <em>Please don't go</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung pushes himself away, relieved no one's around. Still, his heartbeat's <em>thunderous</em> in his head, and he feels faint.</p><p>A new emotion's present too. Terror. Wooyoung's <em>terrified</em>; everything's becoming much too unbearable for him.</p><p>"Please don't leave."</p><p>"<em>I'm not leaving</em>, dammit! What the hell?" Wooyoung exclaims. He feels the way he felt back then on that cliff, like he's losing control of himself and his life. "I'm sorry, but I need some space right now. I'll come back whenever. Go home, hyung."</p><p>"Wooyoung -- "</p><p>"<em>Go home</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't turn around until San leaves, and then he feels like he's breaking apart. And no matter how much air he inhales, it's like he's stuck underwater, drowning deeper and deeper without a way of escape.</p><p>Is he doing the right thing?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. jung wooyoung figures it out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <b>
      <em>《 and what happens when</em>
    </b>
    <br/>
    <b>
      <em>we fail each other? 》</em>
    </b>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>It wasn't always this <em>hard</em> -- the search for happiness. It wasn't always like this either.</p><p>Wooyoung, as a kid, used to laugh a lot. Like, feel <em>really</em> <em>happy</em>. The kind of happy that was so obvious and <em>raw</em> that it lit up your insides with sparks, and as a result it wouldn't have taken long to fizzle it out.</p><p>A lot of kids felt that way too, a majority of them unexposed to the cruel ways of the world before...well, society hit them like a truck.</p><p>Wooyoung's mother -- long before all the fights and the taunts and the burning hatred for her son and the man she married -- would sometimes hold him close at night and tell him (quite frankly embarrassing) stories of how <em>loud</em> and rambunctious he was as a toddler. He'd scream and run and play-fight for no reason at all, making him downright a hassle for her to deal with at times.</p><p>But she loved him, down to his every last flaw. At least, she said she did, until Wooyoung realized she'd been lying.</p><p>And as time flew by, Wooyoung would stand in front of the mirror or walk past his old pictures and not even <em>recognize</em> himself, because how could he have smiled <em>so big</em> back then when all he felt inside at that point in time was emptiness?</p><p>He'd wake up and wish he fell back asleep. He'd stare at the ceiling and wonder how time seemed to just <em>blur</em>; an infinite loop of hopelessness and nothingness. And it just wouldn't fucking <em>stop</em>, no matter how much he'd wanted it to.</p><p>He grew older, number, got more tired. Whenever he experienced some kind of joy, he knew it wouldn't last. The highs got higher, the lows got lower. He stopped seeing the point in smiling, talking, socializing, giving a shit. Stopped seeing the point in <em>anything</em>, really.</p><p>And sometimes, Wooyoung wished the world would just <em>halt</em>. Sometimes, opening his eyes and breathing made him want to <em>fucking throw up</em>.</p><p>"Everything alright there?"</p><p>In the midst of Wooyoung's confusion and tumultuous thoughts, Yeosang's voice shines through. He stops looking at the ground whilst trying to stabilize himself by counting his heartbeat, and looks up at the taller male, who's now rested against his porch, a faint smile on his features.</p><p>Wooyoung bites his lip, realizing how parched his mouth is. He manages a stiff nod he isn't sure Yeosang believes. "Y-Yeah. Everything is uhm...fine."</p><p>Yeosang crosses the street, and it's then Wooyoung notices the long brown sweater he has on, hood pulled over his head. "Are you taking the bus back to San's?"</p><p>Again, Wooyoung wonders how Yeosang knows San's name. Knows he should <em>probably</em> question him about it too, but he isn't thinking clearly and he just needs an outlet to release all the pent-up resentment he's harbouring.</p><p>He shrugs. "I don't even know anymore."</p><p>"You're not fully sober," Yeosang states. "I'll take you home."</p><p>Any other day and Wooyoung would be mad at the older for not minding his own business, but now, he has nothing left to say. He's confused, angry and sad, these three emotions all directed at Choi San because the man decided to betray his trust.</p><p>"Okay," he mutters. He allows Yeosang to take him to his car, a dark red honda civic, and then they're on the road, nothing but silence in between them.</p><p>It's clear Yeosang has a lot of things he wants to say. He most likely witnessed Wooyoung's and San's argument as well, but he ultimately <em>doesn't</em>, and that's what Wooyoung appreciates the most.</p><p>He keeps quiet as Wooyoung stares out the window, wishing he's back to a time when his only worries were getting good grades at school, having friends and wanting his parents to come home on time.</p><p>He remembers everything the younger version of him had hoped for growing up. '<em>By the time you're twenty, you should already have a girlfriend and have a good job, future Jung </em><em>Wooyoung</em><em>. That'</em><em>ll</em><em> be cool</em><em>'</em>.</p><p>Younger him dreamt of having his own car, and late nights with close friends as they cruised under the buzzing, kaleidoscope city lights, arms outstretched and ready to take on the world. He'd be having the perfect college experience, geting drunk and having fun and actually <em>doing</em> something tangible with his fickle, joke of a life. Now that Wooyoung looks back on it, he realizes how pointless and <em>stupid</em> everything is. Stupid, stupid, stupid.</p><p>"Are you okay?" Yeosang asks at a certain point.</p><p><em>No</em>. Wooyoung shrugs again. "I'm fine."</p><p>Despite his answer, Yeosang drops them off at a small convenience store and gets him a tub of ice cream although Wooyoung argues against it at first.</p><p>"When I'm in a bad mood, or when things just seem downright terrible," Yeosang passes the plastic bag towards the shorter, "I eat some ice cream. Tastes even better during the winter, especially when your emotions are running high."</p><p>"Thank you." Wooyoung honestly doesn't know what else to say; Yeosang's repeated kindness is something he seriously never believed he deserved. The tub of caramel apple ice cream on his lap's big enough for more than one person, but he forces himself to not think too much about it.</p><p>"No worries, Young-ah," Yeosang laughs. "Wait -- I <em>can</em> call you that, right?"</p><p>The lump in Wooyoung's throat increases. "Mhm. Yeah... yeah you can."</p><p>Yeosang grins, and Wooyoung feels a little lighter on the inside. The man doesn't speak much for the rest of the ride, giving Wooyoung ample time to sort out his thoughts by taking a few, timid spoons of ice cream.</p><p>He turns rigid at the sugary sweet taste, because it reminds him of <em>San</em>. San and his brilliant smiles, his gentle, kind words, his comforting presence. No one else has ever made him feel so loved before; no one's ever made him this <em>happy</em>. And that's why this <em>hurts</em> him, and that's why he can't keep himself together as his eyes overflow with tears, hiccuping into his spoonful of ice cream like a hot mess.</p><p>"You okay?" Yeosang casts him a worried glance, but soon focuses his gaze back to the dim roads, which Wooyoung's grateful for.</p><p>Wooyoung hastily wipes off the moisture gathered around his eyes. "I'm okay. Thanks."</p><p>Nothing else is said, but Yeosang watches him from time to time, as if Wooyoung's going to <em>blow up</em> if he just so happens to stop paying him attention. Obviously, Wooyoung can't stand it, and when the older man finally parks in front of his destination, he's all too eager to escape from his concerned stares.</p><p>"Hey -- " Yeosang begins just as Wooyoung opens the car door to step out. When the younger turns to look at him, he adds, "I don't know what's going on, but if things are too <em>complicated</em> to sort out right now, sleep on it. It's better, I feel like."</p><p>The man's words make Wooyoung feel like he <em>does</em> know something, but he's far too exhausted to try and figure what that is right now. Instead, he gives a curt nod. "...Okay."</p><p>It's much colder outside now than before, but Wooyoung barely pays attention to the ice crushing his chest and the snow tickling his face as he slips into the gate leading to San's home with little problems, each step weighing a ton. For a second, he wants to run back out into the night, but he knows that'll be a dumb decision to make. He'll freaking <em>freeze</em> to death, and although that doesn't sound like a bad way to go, he really isn't that fond of the cold.</p><p>Wooyoung's sober enough to walk without feeling moments away from tripping on literal air. He even thinks he'll make it past the doors to the house unannounced and hopefully sleep tonight off like it's nothing but a bad dream, but when has he ever been that <em>lucky</em>?</p><p>"Wooyoung?" It's San, standing in front of the closed doors, a large, star shaped plushie clutched in his arms. He hasn't noticed Wooyoung yet, judging by the way his head keeps swiveling in every direction, eyes wide and hopeful. "Are you there?"</p><p>Wooyoung exhales, guilt pushing out all the excess irritation he's currently feeling towards the older. Him and Yeosang hadn't spent a lot of time driving around, but it's still a considerable amount. Just <em>how long</em> did San wait outside for him?</p><p>"San," he says, making himself known.</p><p>"Wooyoung!" San cries out, racing towards him in no time and flinging his arms over his shoulders. Fortunately, Wooyoung moves the ice cream away on time before it has the chance to land on the ground. "W-Wooyoung..."</p><p>"I'm here." The words are like rubber on Wooyoung's tongue, synthetic. "See? I came back."</p><p>San's body is icy, littered with goosebumps, but he stays still in the younger's arms, unwilling to let go. "I'm so sorry for what I did. I -- I deleted it. I deleted it all. I promise you I'll never do it again."</p><p>"It's okay," Wooyoung bites the inside of his cheek. "You're really cold. How long did you stand there?"</p><p>San pulls back, revealing reddened eyes and cheeks. Wooyoung rubs the coldness off his palm and carefully rids the older of his tears. "E-Ever since I arrived back."</p><p>His dark hair's askew, pyjama top not even buttoned properly. Wooyoung feels <em>bad</em>.</p><p>"Let's go inside, hm? Before we turn to snow," he attempts a joke, but San doesn't smile; only keeps looking at him as if he'll <em>vanish</em> forever any second from now. It knocks out all the air from his lungs, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering to life.</p><p>"I got ice cream," he mentions as a way to distract himself from the heat crawling up his neck, deciding to leave Yeosang's name out of the equation.</p><p>"Ice cream?" San stares at the tub like he's just seeing it for the first time tonight, but the want in his eyes is clear. "Is it for the both of us?"</p><p>"If you want, yeah. Have you eaten?" Wooyoung continues, handing San the ice cream.</p><p>"Lunch," San's reply is quick.</p><p>"Shit," Wooyoung swears. "I'll make you something then. You need food."</p><p>He reaches for the ice cream, only for San to step away at the last moment, preventing him from taking it. "Nuh-uh. I'm good with ice cream."</p><p>"San, you can't eat -- "</p><p>But San's already inhaling spoonfuls of the caramel apple ice cream, the look of a child on a sugar high prevalent in his eyes. Wooyoung knows he should stop him, but he doesn't want to. Not when the older looks so <em>adorable</em> and loveable like this, dissipating every last bit of his anger.</p><p>"You'll get brain freeze..." Wooyoung mumbles, but he knows he's already lost. He pats San's hair, smoothing down the unruly locks, whilst San rests his head on his chest. "How do you expect me to stay mad at you when you keep being so cute, huh?"</p><p>"I'm sorry," San apologizes again.</p><p>"It's okay." Wooyoung doesn't want to talk about it -- at least not <em>right now</em>, soon leading the both of them inside before they <em>actually</em> freeze to death.</p><p>They don't talk much, with Wooyoung fixing up San's clothes and sitting with him as he finishes up the entire tub of ice cream. It's at these moments Wooyoung feels like an <em>actual</em> babysitter, and it ruins his thought process because he's then reminded of the reason he came here in the first place.</p><p><em>Choi San will quickly fall hard for you, and he'll fall out of love just as easily</em>.</p><p>"I'm so happy you came back," San says, looking up from the now empty ice cream tub. There's a bit of it on his upper lip, a soft white against the roseate pink of his skin. Wooyoung's heart skips a beat. "I...I thought you wouldn't turn up tonight."</p><p>Wooyoung's heart further breaks apart. "Why would you need to think that way..." he brushes off the frothy topping with his thumb, soon pushing said finger into his mouth, "when I like you too much to begin with?"</p><p>San's eyes grow comically wide, ears stop sign red. "Really?"</p><p>"You seem to forget that I'm your <em>boyfriend</em>, hyung." Wooyoung loses his cool composure too at the word, a sneaky blush dusting over his cheeks.</p><p>"You're my boyfriend," San repeats, sounding quite dazed. He peers up at Wooyoung, lips pulling into a cute little pout. "Can I hug you?"</p><p>Wooyoung nods, breaking into a series of chuckles when San <em>throws</em> himself over him, arms snug around his waist and socked legs curling into him. The man's close proximity and joyous smiles warm Wooyoung inside out, and make him almost want to forget what he did earlier tonight.</p><p>"I want you to stay," San whispers, head buried in the crook of his neck. "Please don't leave."</p><p>"I won't leave."</p><p>San hugs him tighter, which gains Wooyoung's attention. "N-No. You'd have to leave when you're done with this job. He said so."</p><p>Wooyoung blinks. "What?" He says, but San just shakes his head. "Who said that?"</p><p>"He'd told me you'd have to leave soon. Yunnie did," San's eyes clench shut as if the mere thought of it's something he can't bear. "He -- he said you'll want to leave soon and that it's only a matter of time before you find another job somewhere else. He told me you don't actually like me."</p><p>Wooyoung's heart lurches in his chest, threatening to tear it open. Sheer panic and shock infiltrate his veins at what San just said, and for a moment, he stays quiet, too stunned to say anything.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>"I..." He sounds so small, so unlike himself it's <em>frightening</em>. "That's not true."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Don't leave me, Wooyoung."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"<em>I won't</em>," Wooyoung presses. "Why do you believe him over me, the actual guy you're dating?"</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"I'm so sorry Youngie," San sniffs. "I didn't mean to upset you. I got excited and told Yunnie about us, thinking he was going to be fine with it. His words really hurt me."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Don't listen to him," Wooyoung says, but it's difficult to believe himself when he's not even confident in his own words. </p>
</div><p><br/>"I'm sorry I told you."</p><p>"It's fine." But a part of Wooyoung wishes San never said anything on the matter. He wishes he was back to being oblivious; that way he would know nothing of what Yunho's true feelings are towards him.</p><p>"You'll stay, right?" San asks, the desperation in his tone worsening Wooyoung's wounds.</p><p>"I will."</p><p>"You can live with me," San continues. "Stay in the same house as we've been doing all this time. You won't have to get another job or worry about money ever again. I'll take care of you and make you happy."</p><p>'<em>If things are too complicated to sort out right now, sleep on it</em>,' Yeosang's words echo in Wooyoung's head right then, a healing balm that soothes some of his anxiety.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>"We should go to sleep. It's late."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>San looks reluctant for a bit, but soon nods. "Together? None of my plushies are as warm and as cuddly as you."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung feels like he's swallowed sandpaper. "Of course."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>San doesn't sleep much for the night, restless and lucid for the most part. But it's not because he's in a terrible mood or has nightmares; he just <em>doesn't</em> fall asleep. He talks a lot, holding Wooyoung and acting so physically affectionate like he can't let him out of his sight, and Wooyoung does the listening even when tiredness weighs on the corners of his eyes and dreamland's just around the corner.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>And Wooyoung sort of likes it. He likes the closeness and the intimacy, especially after being deprived of it for weeks due to school and San being so busy with CEO things. But a part of him oftentimes wondered if <em>something</em> was up, considering what San told him about Yunho earlier.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He ignores it though; it's something he's been particularly good at from the start. He doesn't want to ask San more on the matter and risk having his smile and laughter wiped off. He just doesn't want to think about it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>And when San leans in and kisses him from time to time, he reciprocates it with as much passion and vigour, just as afraid to lose San as San's afraid to lose him. He kisses him like his life depends on it, like nothing else matters but the older, like his self-doubt and misery aren't already eating him alive. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It doesn't matter that he doesn't get a lot of sleep that night, not when being in San's embrace is more than worth it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung's in a blisteringly hot beach with dazzling blue skies next to a shirtless, tanned and lotioned San. He's a little annoyed at the scorching heat as he adjusts himself on the beach chair he's seated on, which San quickly notices.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"What's wrong, love?" San asks in this weird Aussie accent that doesn't sound <em>as</em> weird.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"This place sucks," Wooyoung states, pulling down his floppy hat over his head. "I'm <em>totally</em> frying up."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"That's all in your imagination, love," San answers with a smirk that makes Wooyoung's skin hotter. He reaches over and passes Wooyoung the biggest piña colada he has ever seen, his biceps bulging as he does so. "Here, drink this. It's tasty."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung does, sighing in satisfaction at the cold taste of the drink. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>San pokes his cheek. "<em>Aww</em>, cute. Don't drink too much though, you'll turn your brain into an ice block."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung doesn't listen, slurping more of the pineapple-coconut flavoured drink until more than half of it's gone down his throat.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>San pokes him again. And again. And again.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung glares at the man. "<em>What</em>?"</p>
</div><p><br/>San pokes him.</p><p>"San!"</p><p>The man begins singing the second verse of <em>Despacito</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung's eyes open, ready to snap when his vision of oiled-up, smirking San dissipates into a much less exposed San, and this time he's softly smiling, fully clothed with his phone in hand, <em>Despacito</em> playing from its speakers.</p><p>Heat floods Wooyoung's face, both at the dream he just had and how San decided to wake him up.</p><p>"Good morning," the man greets, cranking the volume all the way up.</p><p>"<em>Fuck off</em>." He groans out loud when San giggles, turning and burying himself further into the bed's fluffy covers.</p><p>"You know it's Friday, right?" San says, voice sounding a lot closer than before.</p><p>"And you know you should turn that fucking phone down," Wooyoung answers, his tone clipped. For a moment, he fears he sounds too harsh, but San just laughs at his outburst, finally listening to him.</p><p>"You okay?" San questions, and then he's suddenly on top of him, straddling his hips. Wooyoung chokes on nothing, feeling like he can't breathe. "If not, I can give you a massage..."</p><p>"It's -- it's okay," Wooyoung forces out, body stiffening when San's hands feel up his back, fingers digging into his muscles. "It's just -- sometimes I wake up and I get cranky for no reason."</p><p>San's thumbs dip into his shoulders, swirling over the skin. "So many knots... Are you ninety or what?"</p><p>Ignoring how adorably high-pitched San's voice sounds, Wooyoung attempts smacking him, only for his arm to flail wildly with no success as his face's pressed against the bed and he can't really see anything.</p><p>San laughs, airy and melodic. "Now you're trying to summon a demon."</p><p>Wooyoung flushes. "Shut up. I need to get ready for school."</p><p>"Not when Daddy San's around, you don't."</p><p>Wooyoung inhales a sharp breath, eyes enlarging. "Never say that again."</p><p>San's laughter is full, resurrecting the butterflies in Wooyoung's stomach. "What? Daddy San?"</p><p>"Stop it <em>right now.</em>" Wooyoung makes a move to sit up, but San holds him down. "Hyung."</p><p>"I'm not done yet," the older man says. Wooyoung practically feels his limbs melt into a puddle the second San starts working on loosening his joints, and <em>okay</em>, it feels kind of amazing.</p><p>"We should go out today," San tells him, hands currently kneading into his waist. "Like, I don't feel like going to work and it won't hurt if you skip a day, right?"</p><p>Wooyoung blinks repeatedly to try and clear his thoughts. "What...what do you mean? You need to go do your CEO duties. Isn't that the point of being, well, a CEO? And, you miss a day of Professor Jung's shitty classes, you miss a whole seminar's worth of notes."</p><p>San slows down, and the difference is immediate. Wooyoung suddenly doesn't feel as relaxed anymore. "So you don't want to hang out with me."</p><p>"No -- " Wooyoung whips his head to face San, alarm searing through him. "I -- That isn't what I <em>mean</em>. I just -- "</p><p>"Just <em>what</em>?" San interrupts. His brows are wrinkled, frown pulling at his lips. It's a look Wooyoung's never seen on him before, and it makes him anxious. "Why don't you want to spend today with me?"</p><p>"I <em>do</em> want to spend today with you, <em>of course I do</em>," Wooyoung replies, his panic rising when San's frown worsens. "But you can't afford to miss work -- "</p><p>"I <em>seriously</em> couldn't care less about that right now. I just want to be with you, and here you are, making excuses -- "</p><p>"I'm <em>not</em> making excuses -- "</p><p>"Yes you are."</p><p>"Stop cutting me off," Wooyoung snaps. It's extremely terrifying how <em>easily</em> he and San went from joking around to almost fighting, and it's something he can't deal with. Not right now, not ever. "You're acting as if this is the only time we'll ever get to be together. There's always tomorrow, always Sunday. Or any other time we're <em>both</em> free."</p><p>San lets him go, sliding off of him. "I guess I care more about you than you do for me."</p><p>Wooyoung can't believe what he's hearing, too frustrated to think straight. "Is that why you put a tracking device on my phone?"</p><p>"Fuck <em>you</em>, Wooyoung. You're always so goddamn <em>mean</em> to me." San's hands curl into tight fists, shaking uncontrollably. His voice is hushed and heavy, painful. "I missed you. I <em>miss you</em>. I miss <em>us</em>, miss when we hung out and laughed and <em>had fun</em> together without anything coming in between that. I miss when you'd come home and hold me and smile at me and <em>look</em> at me like I was the only person that mattered. I miss everything. I can't <em>fucking</em> function when I'm over there, reading through spreadsheets and emails and enduring meetings without you by my side. It's gotten to the point when I just fucking want you <em>there</em>. I need you there. I need you with me."</p><p>"San..." Wooyoung whispers, but San's already left the bed, grabbing the prazosin bottle on the nightstand and heading for the door. "San, wait -- "</p><p>The door slams, and Wooyoung's heart falls.</p><p>He knows he should leave, go look for San, but he's <em>can't</em>. He's stuck there, unable to move while his brain ventures into darker places, his thoughts the usual spiel about how worthless he is, how much he fucks shit up and how he doesn't deserve someone like San. It's nothing he isn't already used to, but it still messes with him.</p><p>He gets tired of it quick.</p><p>"San?" Wooyoung calls out as he pulls open the door. Tears sting the back of his eyes, but he blinks them away before they can leave. "Hyung? Please, where are you?"</p><p>He feels stupid and pathetic like he's his emotional fifteen year old self again, thinking his body was the most disgusting thing ever. "San..."</p><p>Wooyoung passes the kitchen, disappointed when he doesn't see the older there. He continues to look for him, checking every open space until he realizes the man may be upstairs.</p><p>He makes it to the top on record speed and keeps moving, not even stopping to catch his breath.</p><p>Then he comes across the first bathroom.</p><p>He pushes open the door, San's name on his tongue when he spots the man crouched on the tiles, hand clamped over his mouth like he's swallowing something. Beside him is the bottle of medication, unscrewed with all its contents displayed.</p><p>San notices him and jumps, eyes as wide as saucers. He grabs the container, hands wrapped around it in a vice-like grip.</p><p>"San," Wooyoung steps in, and San backs up against the wall. "What are you doing?"</p><p>San doesn't reply. But he doesn't need to, because when Wooyoung's eyes land on the bottle again, something <em>clicks</em>.</p><p>"...San," He begins, and honestly, with how erratic his heart's beating, it's a surprise how firm his voice is. "...Why are the pills <em>yellow</em>?"</p><p>San's jaw hardens, but he stares at the floor, hiding the container behind him. "I don't know what you're talking about," he states, his words slow and childlike, and Wooyoung wants to fucking <em>hit himself</em> for not figuring it out sooner. San's abrupt talkativeness, how restless and fidgety he was leading to this morning were all the clues, and he'd missed them all.</p><p>"Prazosin pills are entirely different colours," Wooyoung says. "They aren't <em>yellow</em>, for crying out loud. Why do you have different pills inside the bottle?"</p><p>"They're not different pills!" San exclaims, trying to push past him. Wooyoung is faster, though, snatching the bottle out of the older's grasp. "Give it back!"</p><p>"Not until you tell me what these drugs <em>are</em>, San." Wooyoung bites back. The hollowness squeezing his chest clambers up his throat and threatens to escape through his eyes and down his cheeks. "Tell me."</p><p>San attempts taking it back, but fails. "Wooyoung, hand it over."</p><p>"<em>What are they</em>, San?" Wooyoung feels like he's suffocating. "And -- and how long have you been taking them?"</p><p>San's bottom lip wobbles and he crumbles in on himself, all the fight in him leaving. "D-Diazepam," he stutters. "A-And...two weeks ago."</p><p>"I'm telling Hongjoong hyung."</p><p>"No you can't!" San's sobbing now, his face streaked with tears. "Y-You can't tell him <em>anything</em>. He'll get mad, and I don't fucking want that. P-Please."</p><p>"You're taking drugs you <em>weren't </em><em>prescribed</em><em>,</em>" Wooyoung says. Fear and shock and disappointment build up inside him, forming a nauseating mixture of emotions that make him feel faint. "<em>Fuck</em>, San. <em>Why</em>? <em>Why</em> the hell would you <em>do this</em>?"</p><p>"I'm tired!" San hisses. "I'm so fucking <em>tired</em> and sick of everything. I'm sad and I'm fucking miserable and I don't want that. I don't want it. I just want <em>you</em> and I want to <em>be</em> my best self for you, and I just -- I wanted to feel <em>okay</em> again and I fucked up. I'm a mess."</p><p>Wooyoung's heart hurts, but he bites his lip to keep that kind of pain at bay, guiding San to him. The older's quick to hug him like it's his last chance to, whilst Wooyoung stares at the ceiling, counting every single breath he inhales.</p><p>He's overwhelmed. He's overwhelmed and devastated and just wants to <em>wake up </em>and discover that this is all a bad dream. But it isn't. San's abusing drugs to feel fine and leaning on him for support, and Wooyoung feels nothing but <em>pressured</em> to say and <em>do</em> the right thing.</p><p>And he can't take it. He's human, not some all-knowing god that can fix everything.</p><p>"If..." He exhales, "if you stop them now, will they do anything to you?"</p><p>"I don't wanna stop them," San mumbles on his shoulder. "Makes me feel alright..."</p><p>"San, what the hell? They can kill you -- "</p><p>"It's not my first time using them. I'll be fine."</p><p>"You can't fucking <em>do this</em> to me!" Wooyoung yells, startling San. He never meant to raise his voice that way, but <em>fuck</em>, he doesn't give a shit. "You can't expect me to sit here and have you take drugs as if they're <em>water</em>. You know how much I like you -- how deeply you make me <em>feel</em>, and now you're here putting me through this kind of torture. It's not fair. It's not fair at all."</p><p>"I'm sorry, Woo," San sniffs, stroking the younger's hair. "I'm sorry I made you mad at me."</p><p>"You're not fucking taking them again, you hear me?" Wooyoung orders. San makes a sound of protest when he flushes the rest of the pills down the toilet, but soon accepts it.</p><p>"Fine. Whatever." San's tone is cold, odd. Wooyoung decides not to comment on it.</p><p>"I'll spend time with you today," is what he adds, hoping San's mood will elevate as a result. "We'll do whatever you want. I won't tell Hongjoong hyung anything."</p><p>Wooyoung's relieved when San grins. "Okay."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. choi san lets go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>tw/c</em>
  <em>w: blood + boys doing dumb, risky things</em>
</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>
      <em>《 i don't think i'</em>
    </b>
    <b>
      <em>ve</em>
    </b>
    
    <br/>
    <b>
      <em>ever felt more alive</em>
    </b>
    <br/>
    <b>
      <em>than i feel at this moment 》</em>
    </b>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p>There was one moment in Wooyoung's life that made him feel the way he's feeling right now. It was one of his greatest memories; a treasured part of his childhood he'd kept locked and sealed away to the back of his mind after that day as he'd feared nothing else would <em>ever</em> come close to that sort of experience.</p><p>He'd been nine back then, starry-eyed and excited for the annual festival his mother'd brought him to. It was Autumn-themed, just like the season at that time, buzzing with a variety of rides even <em>bigger</em> than buildings themselves, as well as glamorous decorations that added to the cozy, warm spirit. The food was the best part, an assortment of delicious treats that made his mouth water.</p><p>"You kids should go hang out and buy stuff," the friend of Wooyoung's mother had spoken up at that moment, a taller than average lady with midnight black hair and smiles that made even a shy child like Wooyoung feel comfortable. "We'll find something else to do, don't worry."</p><p>"Where are you two going?" Nara, her daughter asked then, arms crossed over her chest. She looked unimpressed, like she'd expected something <em>different</em>.</p><p>"Nothing you both need to know about," Wooyoung's mother replied, sharing a laugh with Nara's mother. Clearly, he and Nara had <em>no idea </em>what she'd meant back then, but when Wooyoung looked back on it now, they probably went for drinks and didn't want them being a distraction. "Young-ah, you have enough change, right?"</p><p>"Yes mommy," Wooyoung had nodded. Nara's scowl just worsened. For a girl that was supposedly three years older than him, she sure pouted like a baby.</p><p>"Good," Mrs Kim, Nara's mother answered. "You know where to meet us when you're done with whatever you guys have planned -- "</p><p>"By the giant neon pink unicorn. Got it," Nara cut in before her mom could finish the sentence. It puzzled Wooyoung how the woman could let her attitude slide, considering his own mother would <em>never</em> allow him to talk back to her.</p><p>"That's great. Hurry along now, cuties," Mrs Kim gently pushed them forward, her big smile as bright as the silver glitter dotting her cheeks like freckles. "Hoping to see some amazing pictures tonight."</p><p>Nara rolled her eyes, while Wooyoung felt awkward. "Don't count on it."</p><p>He watched as his mom and Mrs Kim hooked arms and disappeared into the loud crowd of people, and tried to convince himself that the nauseating dread growing inside him was a result of his imagination and nothing else.</p><p>"You," Nara suddenly remarked, jutting a tiny finger his way.</p><p>He blinked, shocked she was referring to him after ignoring him for like, more than half of their time spent here. "<em>Me</em>?"</p><p>"Who else?" Nara responded, rolling her eyes again. She rolled her eyes a lot. "Anyway -- What's up with your left eye? I couldn't get the chance to ask about it earlier."</p><p>"Oh, um." Wooyoung remembered the list of excuses his mother had given in case anyone he didn't know questioned him on his eyes. He planned on blaming it on contacts or something, but before he could say anything along those lines, Nara stepped in, huffing a breath.</p><p>"It's not fair. You look like a cyborg, and that's cool."</p><p>Wooyoung was, once again, shocked. "Uh... okay?"</p><p>"Looks so realistic and everything. Told my mom countless times I wanted coloured contacts, but she <em>always</em> told me no. Said they looked too strange," Nara continued, examining his eye like it was something she'd never seen before. Wooyoung was used to it, but he certainly wasn't used to someone staring at his eyes like they were something to be <em>admired</em> instead of feared. "I seriously can't understand her. Sucks I still have to live with her for a few more years."</p><p>Nara's words were <em>baffling </em>to Wooyoung, because compared to his mother, Mrs Kim seemed like a really nice person to be around.</p><p>"Why don't you like your mom?" He found himself asking. "She's great."</p><p>Nara flipped her dark hair over her shoulder. Now that Wooyoung looked more closely, he could see its curls highlighted with these golden brown strands that looked translucent under the glowing yellow lights surrounding them. The taller girl twirled a lock of her multicoloured hair as she exhaled a disbelieving, dry chuckle. "It took <em>months</em> before I could even make her <em>think</em> of dyeing my hair any other colour apart from the boring black I have. It was so <em>damn</em> frustrating. Ugh."</p><p>Granted, that wasn't the first time Wooyoung heard a kid around his age cuss, but his ears were basically near <em>virgins</em> to swear words. He cringed at the word; couldn't imagine himself cursing like that even <em>years</em> from now.</p><p>"Does..." Wooyoung began, searching through his limited vocabulary to try and find the right words to say. "Does she try to <em>control</em> you?"</p><p>Nara's fox-like eyes enlarged. "Oh my god -- <em>yes</em>! Don't do this -- do that. No -- " she vigorously shook her head like she was a puppet, and Wooyoung tried to hide his smile. "Do <em>this</em> instead. And it's <em>always</em> about the same issue too. We <em>never</em> agree on <em>anything</em>."</p><p>"Mom's like that too," Wooyoung replied, kicking at a small deflated balloon. "Sometimes."</p><p>The tension digging into Wooyoung's shoulders eased when he spotted the smile on Nara's face. "I noticed."</p><p>"Wait -- Really?" Panic ceased him. "Please don't tell her."</p><p>"Why would I when they practically ditched us to go hang out?" Nara said, her typical, familiar scowl back on her face. She adjusted the fuzzy cat-eared bow on her head. "Though I'm not mad; moms suck the fun out of everything. I prefer dad instead. Sucks he's not here."</p><p>Wooyoung couldn't help his curiosity. "What happened?"</p><p>"Divorce."</p><p>"Oh." Part of Wooyoung was speechless. Another wondered how Nara could utter that word so freely as if the mere thought of a family breaking up wasn't totally <em>devastating</em><em>.</em> He could only hope that never happened to his. "I'm sorry."</p><p>"Why feel sorrry?" Nara then <em>laughed</em>, like the whole thing was hilarious. "They always fought anyway. Why stay together when all you do is <em>fight</em>?"</p><p>Wooyoung's nine year old brain couldn't comprehend the full extent of her words, and to be honest, he really didn't want to think about it.</p><p>Fortunately, Nara started heading to the right where the food stalls were, and Wooyoung hurried along, not wanting to lose her.</p><p>"What kind of candy do you like?" Nara asked, plucking a candy apple from the others on display.</p><p>"Cotton candy," Wooyoung's response was <em>immediate</em>.</p><p>"Basic." Nara's tone was cold, but a smile soon cracked through. She passed Wooyoung the candy apple.</p><p>Wooyoung watched it warily, its glossy exterior reflecting off the blinking fairy lights draped over the neighbouring stall. "I think I'll pass."</p><p>"Have you ever <em>tried</em> it before?"</p><p>"Uh...<em>no</em>?"</p><p>"Then take a bite," Nara commanded. Wooyoung was low-key afraid of her, so he hastily took a bite. In a second, his tastebuds were overwhelmed with sticky sweetness, and it...<em>wasn't so bad</em>. "How is it?"</p><p>"Good." When Nara laughed, he smiled. "Um... it's a bit hard though."</p><p>"Whoops. Forgot you were nine. Practically a <em>baby</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung's smile dissolved into a frown. "I'm not a baby."</p><p>Nara just shrugged, paying for another candy apple which she took a generous bite out of. "You look like one though. A baby cyborg."</p><p>Wooyoung was flustered, and just like before he was too slow in giving a response, because Nara started rushing the other way again, dragging him with her by the arm.</p><p>They kept walking along the sidelines until they came across a wide, stripped tent that looked a lot like the circuses Wooyoung would see on the TV. There weren't much people around either, their voices a distant hum stifled under the chirping cicadas.</p><p>"Where is this place?" Wooyoung had to raise his voice a little, as the booming speakers at the fair would not stop playing music.</p><p>"Mom's not around right now," Nara was basically <em>beaming</em>, a satisfied gleam in her eyes. "And if she gets mad, she won't say anything 'cause <em>you're</em> with me."</p><p>"Wait -- " Wooyoung got dragged again, and this time, it was into the expansive tent, the spotlights nearly blinding him. He rapidly blinked the regain his focus, and when he finally did, he was met with three lines of people, all in front of guys with outrageous paint on their faces and even arms. The brushes in their hands flew across the people's faces in a flurry, but they didn't seem to mind.</p><p>"We're getting our faces painted," Nara explained, the widest smile Wooyoung had ever seen plastered over her face. "And <em>no</em>, you can't back out."</p><p>Wooyoung's heart dropped. "I -- I can't -- "</p><p>"What's stopping you? They aren't harmful. They're actually <em>fun</em>," Nara argued. "These guys get you painted <em>whatever</em> you want."</p><p>"But -- " Wooyoung swallowed as the line Nara pushed them into shortened. "My <em>mom</em>..."</p><p>He half-expected Nara to maybe roll her eyes, or even <em>laugh</em> at him for being such a buzzkill. She seemed like the type after all.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>But instead, the older girl just stared right at him, something like <em>e</em><em>mpathy</em> in her eyes. "...Look, I'm not saying you should disobey your mother or anything. But parents sometimes just ruin things and make them <em>not fun</em> just because they feel they have the <em>power</em> to. That's a form of control. But you can't always listen to her. You need to do what <em>you</em> want sometimes and have some fun too, because your body is <em>yours</em>. Not hers."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung didn't know what to say, but her words <em>resonated</em> with him, even though he was ultimately too young to truly get it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"It may be hard now," she continued, "but you'll have to break out one day. That's what I'm trying to do right now. As soon as I get the chance, I'll go live with dad and get my face painted as much as I want. Don't say anything though." </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung giggled at that. "Isn't it painful? Face-painting, I mean."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"<em>What</em>? No!" Nara exclaimed, unmindful of the stares she received. "It's <em>so</em> cool. I can even tell them I want to look like a freaking alligator for Christ's sake, and they'll make me into the coolest, most amazing one ever. They can paint anything."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"<em>Anything</em>?" Wooyoung perked up at that. </p>
</div><p><br/>"Yeah. Anything."</p><p>Wooyoung hadn't been sure of getting his face painted since it reminded him of <em>makeup</em>, and makeup wasn't something he should put on his face, but as he stared at the faces of everyone around him, skin coloured into varied shades and designs, he began to feel a bit more confident in himself.</p><p>"What's your favourite animal?" Nara asked as the man in front of them was getting his face painted. "I like cats, especially wild ones. Like tigers."</p><p>Wooyoung hadn't thought much about that. "I don't know..."</p><p>"<em>Blue </em><em>Morpho</em>," Nara suddenly stated out loud.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"It's a type of butterfly species. They're a pretty blue, like the sea. They're like your left eye."</p><p>"...Oh."</p><p>Nara pulled out her flip phone, swiftly typing something down and then showing the screen to Wooyoung. Sure enough, there were pictures of butterflies with these large, dazzling blue wings, and when he looked up at her, she grinned at him.</p><p>"Butterflies can be your spirit animal. They're super cute."</p><p>Wooyoung nodded, because honestly, butterflies didn't sound half bad. "Yeah, I guess."</p><p>Nara made him get his face done before hers. At first, Wooyoung was extremely nervous because he was getting butterflies painted on his face and he had no idea how the man responsible was going to react to that, only to feel relieved when there was no judgement at all from his side. He even asked Wooyoung if he'd like a few additional decorations, and of course Wooyoung had agreed.</p><p>Soon he was staring at someone in the mirror he barely knew, gemstones below his eyes and vibrant electric blue wings that glittered colouring his cheeks in gentle strokes. Nara was right. These type of butterflies were <em>really cute</em>.</p><p>True to her words, Nara got most of her face painted in stripes reminiscent of a tiger, the colour a bright, burning orange that looked like flames. It suited her for sure.</p><p>"We look <em>gorgeous</em>," Nara complimented. Her words made Wooyoung feel warm inside.</p><p>"I...I think so too."</p><p>Nara poked his cheek, and they both giggled at each other. "You know what we should do next?"</p><p>"What?" Wooyoung hoped he didn't sound a little <em>too</em> eager.</p><p>It turned out to be a good thing he and Nara hadn't eaten anything heavy before now, because the moment they stationed themselves inside the spinning rollercoaster almost a hundred meters off the ground, Wooyoung felt sick to his stomach as soon as they gradually neared the first big drop.</p><p>"I feel like we're flying!" Nara squealed over the music and all the chatter, the cold wind tousling her dark hair. She excitedly gestured at the sky. "Wooyoung, look."</p><p>Wooyoung swallowed down his urge to throw up and did as she asked, eyes widening at the sight he was faced with. The sky was a pristine blue -- as if it'd been sprayed on, the thin, pale clouds floating across it adding to its dream-like state. He couldn't tell if there were stars, because at that point in time, fireworks scattered everywhere he looked, sprinkling about like watercolours on the night's endless canvas. Even below him, the buildings and citizens were lit up like a rainbow, and it was beautiful.</p><p>"<em>Awesome, right</em>?" Nara shouted.</p><p>Wooyoung squinted against the chilling breeze, laughing when some of her hair whisked over his cheek.</p><p>"Yes!" he shouted back. "Awesome."</p><p>"Don't you <em>dare</em> vomit all over me when -- " Nara never got to finish what she wanted to say, her words evolving into a ear-shattering scream when the rollercoaster abruptly dropped.</p><p>Wooyoung felt like he was <em>floating</em>. Nara was shouting for dear life next to him, arms outstretched like she could do anything. Seeing her so <em>free</em> convinced him to let go too, and when he did, he felt like he'd truly became <em>invincible</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung screeched and yelled and laughed in one night than he'd ever done in his nine years of living. Adrenaline rippled right through him, bursting through the seams, and he didn't bother containing it. It was something he wanted to continue feeling for the rest of his life.</p><p>"Burgers?" Nara said when they left the ride, patting down her wild nest of a hair. She spoke like she was still on the very top of the rollercoaster, but Wooyoung didn't mind it one bit.</p><p>"Sure!" He grinned, and off they went to go get them. They bought sodas as well, which he slurped as if they'd disappear if he just so ignored them for a second.</p><p>"My mom and yours must be looking for us right now," Nara told him a few minutes later.</p><p>Wooyoung stopped looking at the dazzling skies, nibbling on the greasy burger. It suddenly got harder to swallow down his bite at the mention of their parents. "...Yeah."</p><p>"Hey, I know I'm cool but there's no need to be sad."</p><p>"I'm not sad."</p><p>"<em>Sure</em>." Nara absentmindedly twirled her straw. "Anyway, you were cool tonight. Hopefully next year we'll get to hang out again."</p><p>Wooyoung wasn't so sure about that, even when he <em>really</em> wanted to spend more time with her after today. "I hope so too."</p><p>They talked a bit more that night, but like everything good in life, they had to end at some point.</p><p><em>Stay happy</em>, Nara's eyes read as they met up with their mothers, having to answer to their questions about their face paint.</p><p><em>You too</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung couldn't sit still as his mom drove them home, too lost in his thoughts about all the fun he had tonight to notice how unnervingly quiet she'd gotten.</p><p>They entered the house in silence, but Wooyoung froze when his mother knelt before him, a look he'd never seen before on her face.</p><p>"Woo..." she plucked the candy apple he was holding out of his grip. "You should go wash your face."</p><p>"Oh." He nodded, his chest too tight to contain his heart. "Okay."</p><p>"Don't ever put that on again," his mother continued, her brows furrowed. "It's for girls like Nara, not you."</p><p>"Okay..."</p><p>Wooyoung didn't allow himself to be disappointed when he spotted the candy apple in the trash after he'd finished washing his face. He didn't allow himself to feel disappointed either when he and Nara never hung out after that day. But he kept that memory of the fair close to his heart for safekeeping, afraid he'd lose it to the dark if he didn't.</p><p>Until now he's been so convinced he'd <em>never</em> have another moment like that in his life again; a moment where he'd felt so euphoric and fulfilled like he could succeed at anything he put his mind to, and he'd been ready to accept that until Choi San waltzed into his life and changed <em>everything</em>.</p><p>The man's currently humming, the soft, harmonious sound like silk as his arm rests against the car window, curled hair flowing down the base of his milky, freckled neck with every move he makes. He's smiling too, subtly, lightly drumming on his thighs to this beat Wooyoung's unfamiliar with but still craves to <em>know</em>.</p><p>San isn't even doing much, but it's already more than enough to set Wooyoung's heart ablaze.</p><p>San catches his repeated glances, and suddenly Wooyoung's on that rollercoaster again, prepared for the leap and fall. "What?" He asks, fingers sifting down the ends of his shoulder-length hair.</p><p>Wooyoung clears his throat, tries not to give in to the urge of tracing his thumb over San's skin. "I just -- I was wondering when we'd get to the place you were talking about. Hope it isn't too far, considering no one else apart from us knows about this."</p><p>And it's true. San managed to convince him that calling Hongjoong or any of the others would only cause more harm than good. He said they were used to it, used to him missing days of work when he didn't feel like showing up. And Wooyoung didn't want to upset him, so he'd agreed.</p><p>San exhales on the window, before doodling something that looks like a circle on the surface. It takes Wooyoung a second to discover he's drawing a snowman, and it makes him smile a bit. "It won't take long before we get there."</p><p>"But where is it? <em>What</em> is it?"</p><p>San chuckles, his dimples making an appearance. "Uh, well... it has water."</p><p>Wooyoung's concentration on the snow-filled roads cuts short as he spares the older another glance. "Water? But it's <em>winter</em>."</p><p>"The place doesn't get frozen even when it gets super cold, and I'm not gonna swim," San assures, and Wooyoung tries to believe him even though he doesn't sound all that convincing. "Just wanna spend some time there with you for a while."</p><p>Heat crawls up Wooyoung's face as he notices the man's stare. He clears his throat. "What?"</p><p>San just smiles, humming that same tune to himself again. Wooyoung's heart can't take it.</p><p>Fortunately, the snowing isn't as heavy as it was the days before, but that doesn't make the journey a lot easier to navigate through. Wooyoung listens when San tells him to park near this small hut located close to a settlement of trees drowning in bright snow.</p><p>He can't hide his confusion, however. "Where are we?"</p><p>"You'll see." San laughs, catching the younger off-guard as he plants a soft kiss on his cheek. He then kisses him on the lips too, which Wooyoung finds himself chasing after when he breaks away. "You wanna kiss me <em>that</em> badly, huh?"</p><p>Wooyoung clasps San's gloved hands, just noticing now that they're shaking a little. It worries him, but he gets rid of the feeling. "I do."</p><p>San's cheeks flush a tender pink. "God, Woo. You have no idea how much I like you."</p><p>Wooyoung closes the space between them with his lips, hoping his response is reassurance enough that he wants San just as much as San wants him.</p><p>San climbs on top of him, leaving these hot, open-mouthed kisses along the slope of his neck. It takes Wooyoung's breath away, goosebumps decorating his skin when the older slips his hands through his coat.</p><p>And then San's head bumps against the roof of the car. "<em>Ow</em>, fuck."</p><p>Wooyoung can't help it. He laughs, and San joins in as well, but it's clear it hurts more than he lets on. "Oh my god, are you okay?"</p><p>"It's my fault for deciding we should make out inside a freaking <em>car</em>," San chuckles, rubbing his head. "So dumb."</p><p>Wooyoung pulls him in to his surprise, but the man eagerly relaxes into him. It's a bit awkward even with the extra space the vehicle provides, but Wooyoung makes do with it by stroking San's hair as steadily as he can so his head won't hurt anymore. "...Is this okay?"</p><p>San hums on his shoulder. It lightly vibrates, and it tickles. "Yeah..."</p><p>There's quiet for a bit, and San's the one to break it. "...I'm sorry."</p><p>Wooyoung slows down the stroking. "For what?"</p><p>"For the drug thing." San sighs. "I'm sorry for hiding it from you and lying about it."</p><p>Wooyoung pushes down the fear he felt that morning before it can resurface, choosing to kiss San's hair instead. It helps that it smells nice too, like honey. "It's okay. Really. You said you won't do it again, and that's all that matters."</p><p>San nods quickly, as if he's trying his best to believe Wooyoung's words. Then he looks up, a dashing grin lighting up his features. He's opening the door before Wooyoung can process what's even happening, and before long he's nothing but a flurry of purple and red in the thick snow.</p><p>"San -- wait!" Wooyoung's quick in jumping out the car and locking it, but he isn't fast enough as San rushes into the congregation of stiff trees, leaving a trail of footsteps in his wake. Wooyoung burns out his apprehension before it can consume him. "San!"</p><p>He enters where he'd seen San disappear off into, shuddering at the cold even when he's bundled up in his thickest clothes. The trees form a canopy of sorts that reaches into the sky, blocking parts of the early afternoon sunlight -- which there already isn't much of in the first place.</p><p>Wooyoung catches San in the distance, and exhales a sigh of relief that loosens the knots in his stomach. "San?"</p><p>San turns, grins all mischievously like he's planning something. He stays still as Wooyoung runs up to him. "Hi."</p><p>"You can't just <em>run off</em> on me like that," Wooyoung tries to explain, but San doesn't even <em>look</em> like he's listening. "Don't do that again, alright? Almost gave me a heart attack."</p><p>San swings his arm, and suddenly Wooyoung feels the left side of his chest getting wet. He stares down at the bits of melted snow now staining his coat, eyes enlarged.</p><p>"<em>San</em>."</p><p>"Snowball fight!" San squeals, much too <em>euphoric</em> for what he's just done. He sprints off again, further into the forest this time.</p><p>Wooyoung hurriedly follows after him, at a loss for words. He isn't mad or anything, but there's something a bit <em>off</em> about how the older's behaving, and he knows he <em>has</em> to be around to keep him secure.</p><p>"Where are we going?" He asks at one point, beginning to grow more and more restless due to San's relentless running. Not to mention how he has to struggle to breathe properly, because San just <em>won't stop</em>. "San?"</p><p>San never replies. He keeps moving, light on his feet and dazed laughter escaping him every once in a while.</p><p>"San, slow down."</p><p>San does as he's asked, but it's not because he realized he should start listening to Wooyoung.</p><p>Up ahead lays something similar to an elongated plateau, topped with even more snow and boulders so sharp they remind Wooyoung of teeth. The extensive structure tapers further into a steep, frozen cliff that stretches outwards, and when Wooyoung listens closely, he hears the distinctive sound of gushing water.</p><p>"What is this place?" He finds himself asking, kind of awed at the sight. It's a little frightening, and all the ice and sheets of snow heightens its shock value.</p><p>San shrugs, giggling. "You like it?"</p><p>"I feel like it'd kill me, but it'll also take me to heaven."</p><p>San grins, notably pleased. His bright red scarf is off his neck in seconds, exposing his pale skin to the air. It quickly earns Wooyoung's attention.</p><p>"Hyung, what are you doing?"</p><p>San digs through his trousers for something, soon pulling out something thin that glints silver even with all the white surrounding them. His smile rivals the luminous snow as he jogs up to Wooyoung, gloved palms cradling his.</p><p>A bracelet falls into Wooyoung's hand, silvery and fragile, and linked to it are several small butterflies mid-flight, their azure wings like sea glass. Wooyoung's throat closes up at the sight of them. <em>Fuck</em>.</p><p>"They're pretty, right? I specifically brought you here so I could give it to you, since they look really nice with snow in the background," San's saying, and just his voice -- his pretty, <em>lovely</em> voice -- causes Wooyoung's eyes to sting with tears. "<em>Or not</em>. Do you...do you not like it?"</p><p>"No, I -- " Wooyoung instinctively shakes his head. He's afraid to move his fingers, afraid to figure out if this is nothing but his darned imagination. He fears none of this is actually real. "I... I love it. I really do, Sannie."</p><p>San's thumb rubs his cheek. "I'm glad. But...you're <em>crying</em>."</p><p>"It's dumb," Wooyoung sniffs, the lump in his throat hardening when he spots the cursive <em>woo</em>♡<em>san</em> engraved into the metal. "I remember this fair I went to when I was nine, and then there was this girl too. Her name's Kim Nara. We hung out and -- and she made us get our faces painted. She said I'd look good with blue butterflies on my skin, called them <em>Blue </em><em>Morpho</em>, I think. Anyway, I -- I listened, and after it was done, I felt good. Really good. I thought I actually looked <em>pretty</em> for the first time in my life."</p><p>"But you <em>are</em> pretty," San says, eyes earnest. Wooyoung's heart goes into overdrive. "You're so pretty I find myself wondering how you fell for someone like me."</p><p>"San..." Wooyoung can't believe what the man's saying.</p><p>San laughs, but there's so much honesty in his gaze it takes Wooyoung's breath away. "There are a <em>lot</em> of days that I feel low, or feel like there's no point in living or doing anything. But then I remember you like <em>me</em>, and that's enough reassurance that I'm doing something <em>right</em>, at least."</p><p>Wooyoung watches on, heartbeat racing when San folds his scarf around his neck, snuggling it in warmth.</p><p><em>I love you.</em> Wooyoung can see those words written in San's eyes as clear as day. He feels like he's drowning.</p><p>His lips part, wanting to say something similar, something that'll let San know he feels the same, but the older starts heading for the cliff, kicking off his boots and socks on the way.</p><p>"San?!" Wooyoung questions, panic shadowing his thoughts. "San, what are you <em>doing</em>?"</p><p>San cackles, lighthearted and free. He sounds <em>alive</em>, like the world is his for the taking. "M'gonna go dip my feet into the water."</p><p>Wooyoung's eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. "That isn't safe!"</p><p>But San's already skidding over the cliff, his movements rapid yet familiar at the same time. "Don't worry! I've done this <em>countless times</em>!" He calls out. Even with how far ahead he is, his dimples are still visible.</p><p>"How the hell are you gonna get to the water? I can't even <em>see</em> it from here," Wooyoung says. <em>Don't get frustrated</em>, he repeats to himself like a mantra. "Please, come back down. That doesn't look <em>stable</em>."</p><p>"I'll be <em>fine</em>," San waves off his concerns, shrugs off a layer of his coat. "There are a few rocks below. Big enough to walk across."</p><p>"<em>San</em>." Wooyoung's pleading this time, now at the foot of the prickly boulders that San previously climbed over like they were <em>nothing</em>. "Come back down."</p><p>"<em>Why</em>, Woo?" San teases. His smile hasn't left, only now it looks more like a <em>taunt</em>, so out of place on his face. "Why don't you want me to have fun?"</p><p>"That isn't what I mean," Wooyoung answers. "You can have fun <em>without</em> risking your life -- "</p><p>"The water's so splendid, Wooyoung-ah..." San's eyes are wide like he's seeing it for the first time. "You should come join me. You'll love it..."</p><p>"Hyung, <em>please</em>," Wooyoung grips onto the first boulder he sees, ascending the rough surface in no time.</p><p>"See? You're coming up."</p><p>"I'm bringing you back down."</p><p>"No!" San sounds <em>horrified</em>, almost. "I'm heading down and you can't stop me."</p><p>"What the <em>fuck</em>, San!" Wooyoung yells, unable to hide how fucking <em>anxious</em> he feels. "Don't do anything."</p><p>It's as if his counsel falls on deaf ears, because San's already lowering himself off the cliff, ready to get to the water.</p><p>"<em>San</em>," Wooyoung begs, wishing he'd never listened to San and allowed him to bring him here today. The man had <em>just</em> been taking non-prescribed medication this morning that most likely altered his mood, and yet still, Wooyoung took him here, exposing him to something potentially life-threatening. He's so fucking <em>stupid</em>.</p><p>In a few desperate strides, he's already on top of the cliff. It's slippery even with all the snow and his boots on, and makes him even more wary of this situation. "San, oh my god, please get back here."</p><p>San turns to meet his stare. His eyes are <em>completely</em> black, smile empty. He says nothing as he takes a step forward, vanishing behind the edge of the cliff.</p><p>Wooyoung runs to stop him, throat raw and painful from screaming his name so much.</p><p>The water's much louder over here, its turbulent, reckless waves slamming into the large stones below.</p><p>San's nowhere in sight.</p><p>"<em>San!</em>" Wooyoung bawls. He's dizzy, confused, doesn't know what to do. Where to look. "Oh my god, oh my god -- <em>San</em>! San where are you?!"</p><p>The water sloshes up and about, bubbles erupting as a result. Then red.</p><p>There's red all over the water, spreading apart like ink.</p><p>"Fuck!" Wooyoung tears off San's scarf and his coat and throws himself onto the first rock he sees, nearly missing his step.</p><p>Heart pounding so intensely he fears he might <em>die</em>, he makes his way down the wet rocks, shivers racking his frame. He doesn't have the time to register the freezing cold however, determined to reach the water as quickly as he can. As soon as he does, he pulls off his jeans to make himself as weightless as possible, rushing into it without any more time to spare.</p><p>The water's colder than anything Wooyoung's ever felt before, turning his blood to ice when he sinks himself in. The waves splash over him, soaking his clothes in an instant, but it's the least of his worries right now.</p><p>"San!" His teeth are chattering, limbs moving like crazy as he submerges himself under the water, searching frantically for the older man. It's darker than hell in there, full of jagged stones that prick his skin, and total terror sets in.</p><p>Never letting the sensation take over him, Wooyoung swims down at the first silhouette he sees, arms wrapping around it without much thought. Skin meets skin, and Wooyoung has to fight against the thrashing waves and his burning lungs as he hauls them both to the surface, using every last bit of his strength.</p><p>San stays still in his arms, hair a wavy sea of black stuck to his ashen body.</p><p>"S-San!" Wooyoung cries, choking on his tears. "Open your eyes. Please open them."</p><p>The horror that he can possibly <em>lose</em> San drives him to drag the two of them to the rocks, and that when he sees the long gash of red trickling down San's left leg.</p><p>Wooyoung wants to sob until he tires out, wants to wake up and categorize this moment as nothing more than a fucking nightmare, because he can't <em>take it </em>anymore. He doesn't know what he'll do with himself if San <em>dies</em> because of him.</p><p>Hands trembling, Wooyoung checks for a pulse, but his frenzied state doesn't allow him to feel <em>anything</em>. He tilts San's head and blows air into his mouth over and over again, but gets <em>nothing</em> in return.</p><p>Wooyoung feels like he isn't even <em>there</em> when he begins pressing down on San's chest, trying to make him regain consciousness. The older remains cold, an eerie expression of peace settled on his features. But still, Wooyoung doesn't give up. He doesn't <em>allow</em> himself to. He can't lose San. Not now, not <em>ever</em>.</p><p>"Wake up! Please -- <em>please</em> wake up," Wooyoung begs and begs until his voice fails him. He keeps doing those chest compressions and giving San air, rotating it even when his arms hurt and his eyes are sore with tears. "Wake up goddammit! Shit!"</p><p>Wooyoung's never been unlucky enough to experience the death of someone dear to him in all his years of living, and even then, he'd never expected it'd feel this <em>earth-shattering</em>.</p><p>The world stops -- <em>his</em> world, because San's his sun and stars and if San's <em>gone</em>, Wooyoung knows he can't survive. He <em>won't</em> survive.</p><p>And as San lays there, unresponsive and losing blood and colour, Wooyoung feels his world collapsing.</p><p>But then San's chest expands like a pump, dragging in a sharp intake of air. The sound slices through the thundering waves and into Wooyoung' ears, louder than everything else.</p><p>"San!" Wooyoung wails like a baby as the older starts to cough. "You're alive!"</p><p>He pulls the man's shaking body close, and practically <em>rips</em> through his discarded jeans for his phone. "D-Don't worry, hyung. We're -- we're gonna be okay, hm? W-We'll be fine."</p><p>San doesn't respond, but his rising chest and rapid, haggard breathing's the only answer Wooyoung needs.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. jung wooyoung loses</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em> <b>《 words that were better</b> </em>
    <br/>
    <em> <b>off left unsaid 》</b> </em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p>The weather was the clearest it'd ever been -- at least, to San's knowledge. The sky was a spotless, deep sapphire, not a single thread of cloud dusting it, and the sun was at its peak, its rays dancing across the colourless waves of the sea.</p><p>San stared at his feet, his toes wriggling into the runny, wet grains of the sand. Despite the heat, shudders rippled down his back and arms, leaving chills in their wake. He was nervous, but hoped it wasn't noticeable.</p><p>There weren't a lot of people around, something about the beach resort only having private access, yet San <em>couldn't</em> stop shivering; couldn't stop feeling like every eye was on him, judging each move he made.</p><p>A hand, warm but damp, patted his shoulder right then. Laughter descended around him, increasing in decibels when San promptly found himself in a mock chokehold, earning him an eyeful of armpit.</p><p>San didn't waste time thrashing out of his brother's hold, sputtering as if he'd eaten something absolutely <em>repulsive</em>.</p><p>"What the <em>hell</em>?" He spat, rubbing his face. "<em>Gross</em>!"</p><p>"You're only seven, and yet you're already cussing?" Jongho laughed, placing his hands on his hips like a disappointed parent. His beaming smile spoke of the opposite, though, rivalling the smouldering heat of the sun. "Wait until dad hears about this."</p><p>"What's he gonna do, huh? Put me on timeout?" San questioned haughtily, observing his brother's frame before he could stop himself. Jongho <em>thrived</em> in the outdoors, exercising whenever he saw fit, and that was basically proved by how much he was glowing right now. He was only eleven currently, but his height and stature made him look a few years older. San wasn't jealous, but sometimes he wished he wasn't so skinny.</p><p>Jongho, however, was clueless to his thoughts. Slinging his arm around San's small shoulders again, he let out, "Nah. I <em>think</em> he'll do something <em>much</em> different."</p><p>San stared at his brother, wide-eyed and curious. "...What?"</p><p>It happened quicker than San would've ever expected it to. One second, he was on soil, toes occassionally submerged under the frothy waves, and in the other he suddenly landed in Jongho's arms, screeching for dear life as the older boy raced them into the sea.</p><p>"Hyung!" San yelled, smacking his brother's chest over and over to get him to stop. But all his attempts turned out to be failures as Jongho just continued to run, a smile bigger than the universe splitting his face.</p><p>"<em>Cannonball</em>!"</p><p>San's screams abruptly cut short just as they splashed into the water, nothing but large oscillating bubbles remaining. It was dark -- navy blue, maybe -- flecks of aquamarine and silver staining the surface like stars. San tried to reach out, but his hands grasped at nothing, over and over.</p><p>Like shackles had been bound to his ankles and arms, San felt himself falling, sinking. Time stopped. Sound dulled.</p><p>Then came the <em>panic</em>. It ceased him, thick and heavy as the salt and raw fish spoiling his tastebuds. He screamed, but all that came out was silence than his struggling heartbeat.</p><p>Hands grappled at San's skin, fighting against the currents. Gold and flimsy foam blinded him as he ascended, feeling like he was approaching his demise.</p><p>"<em>San...an...San!</em>"</p><p>Light sliced through his vision. Birds squawked overhead. Sunlight splayed on top his skin, casting shadows on the many droplets now sticking to him.</p><p>Lungs crumpled and burning, San coughed out loud, heaving into his palms. Hands swallowed his form, hurried words he couldn't decipher surrounding him at every corner.</p><p>"San! Oh my god -- are you <em>okay</em>?"</p><p>San coughed some more, blinking out the excess water from his eyes.</p><p>"I'm so sorry. I -- I thought you'd be okay with it. We learnt how to swim together, after all. I never knew this would happen -- "</p><p>San inhaled sharply, his coughs wracking his body. "It's fine. I-I'm okay."</p><p>Jongho didn't look convinced. Eyes enlarged and glazed over with fright, he seemed more like the brother who'd nearly drowned instead. "I -- I need to take you back to dad. We can go to the hospital, or you can rest and -- "</p><p>"I said I'm <em>fine</em>, hyung," San pressed. He knew he was being stubborn, but he didn't like being treated like some helpless baby. "Just -- just got a little distracted, is all."</p><p>"I'm sorry I jumped with you into the sea without even asking, Sannie-ah."</p><p>'<em>Sannie-ah</em>' was a nickname only Jongho called him, and normally San would complain about it or pout and tell him to shut up. But somehow, at that moment, something bitter and weighted clamped around his throat, stinging the corners of his eyes.</p><p>Tears, warm and quick, rolled down his cheeks.</p><p>"Sannie-ah..." drawled Jongho, palpable concern plastered over his features.</p><p>San sniffed, choking up. Jongho shifted closer, thumbs swiping off the moisture on his cheeks. "Don't..." he breathed in, "don't leave me, okay? Don't let go, hyung."</p><p>"Oh Sannie..." Jongho smiled, lower lip quivering, pulling his younger brother in for a hug. "Why would I <em>ever</em> let you go?"</p><p>San cried harder into his chest, all messy and whiny and broken, chastising himself for behaving like a <em>nuisance</em> in front of Jongho who could've been spending his summer with friends his age instead. But Jongho still held on to him, patting his hair every once in a while, which gradually calmed him down. He always knew just what to do.</p><p>"I'm so sorry, Sannie-ah," Jongho continued. "I'll make it up to you. Is spicy chicken okay? I heard they're serving it at the restaurant this afternoon."</p><p>San nodded on the elder's shoulder. "...Okay."</p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p><em>Skin abrasion...traces of diazepam and other drugs found...concussion...needs lots of rest</em>.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung sits, collapsed on the unforgiving metal chair like a ragdoll as the distant, practised words of the man in the white coat enter his ears and tears into his brain like paper.</p>
</div><p><br/>The smell of clinical disinfectant, antiseptic and raw hope in the atmisphere is <em>stifling</em>, twisting his gut in nausea. A headache throbs at the base of his skull, growing more severe with each tick of the metallic round clock perched to the right of the hall.</p><p>People walk, slippers and boots clicking down the polished floors. Nurses donned in ugly grey ensembles like prisoners; a few patients loitering around before they ultimately get dragged back into their rooms. It's depressing and miserable, pulling Wooyoung deeper into despair.</p><p>Cold air from artificial aircondition nips at his frozen frame, managing to seep right through the large buttoned sweater and trousers that'd been handed to him on his way here. The sweater is San's. At the thought of the older male, Wooyoung again feels his guilt rip him apart piece by piece.</p><p>He remembers his first few times at the hospital. One of them had been to get a flu shot, while the other was when he'd attempted to do <em>something</em> on the monkey bar which landed him with a bruised jaw and scraped, bleeding knees. Those moments were horrific. The hospital <em>terrified</em> him, and he wanted nothing to do with it ever again.</p><p>But here he is.</p><p>Hongjoong's in a dark coloured coat and wine red beret, as stylish as ever in front of the doctor as the man continues to speak. The exact expression of his face is hard to read, but ever so often, his plucked eyebrows would knead, lips tightening at the corners. His face would darken, uncharacteristic frown lines showing forth, and Wooyoung would make himself as small as possible as if it'll lessen the extent of the destruction he's caused.</p><p>A minute passes. Hongjoong sighs. The doctor beside him spares Wooyoung a glance, wrinkled face squinted with disdain. Or maybe that's just the way he looks. Either way, Wooyoung perks up at the attention.</p><p>"Is he okay?" Is what he chooses to ask. His voice sounds pathetic; something you'd hear from a dying person in the desert pleading for a sip of water. "He's...he's fine, right?"</p><p>The doctor takes a pause, like he's contemplating if a response would the best outcome in this situation. It's more than the other doctors' attempts though, whose eyes just flitted over him like he was invisible and towards Hongjoong instead.</p><p>Hongjoong takes the lead by nodding, and although Wooyoung should feel relieved, it's as if the boulder pressing down on his chest increases by a tenfold.</p><p>The male doctor walks the other direction, while Hongjoong shortens the space between them, his silence bothering Wooyoung in the worst way.</p><p>He braces himself for an argument, for words that'll eat him up and spit him out, leaving him nothing but a disillusioned mess on the ground. He searches for the anger in Hongjoong's eyes, for a squeeze of the fist as it readies itself to slam against him -- <em>Anything</em>.</p><p>But all Wooyoung gets is quiet, Hongjoong's relentless stare boring into the wall behind him until he blinks, eyes soon dragging over to his face.</p><p>"Are you cold?" asks Hongjoong. He sounds strained, like he's barely holding himself together. It's so <em>different</em> from his usual self, and all Wooyoung can do is beat himself again and again over it. <em>You caused this</em>.</p><p>"I'm sorry," he relays, the words spewing out his tongue before he knows what he's doing. He glares at his trembling hands, detesting how pale and <em>sickly</em> they appear. He almost wants to <em>rip</em> his skin off entirely. Maybe then he'll finally look at himself and accept what he sees. "I'm so sorry. I -- "</p><p>"Get up."</p><p>Wooyoung does, swaying on wobbly, desensitized legs like he's nothing but bones and withered, crippled flesh.</p><p>Hongjoong starts to walk forward, and of course Wooyoung follows behind, heart stuck in his oesophagus. They walk past the bustling nurses and silent, soulless patients, stalking down halls and elevators on the way. Wooyoung gets reminded of the night he met the older and his life changed, and he wants to stumble to the floors and beg for the man's forgiveness.</p><p>They exit another elevator, which seems to be the final one. Hongjoong talks to some other medical professional while Wooyoung wraps his arms around himself, goosebumps lathering his tense skin.</p><p>Wooyoung wonders where they're going when Hongjoong turns a corner, but has the sense to not say a word. A room opens, the windows spread apart and letting little light in.</p><p>Hongjoong steps in, and so does Wooyoung until he comes across the bed laid at the other side of the wide room. The heart monitor glints through the dark, beeping steadily.</p><p>"What..." Wooyoung swallows, tearing his eyes away from the person tucked into the bed and towards Hongjoong instead. The older man keeps watching the person, however. "Hyung -- "</p><p>"That man over there," Hongjoong halts, corneas turning glassy. "He's San's older brother. Choi Jongho."</p><p>If Wooyoung's heart had been in his throat before, now it crashes, tumbling down his body as it <em>self-destructs</em>. Like a dam, the tears he'd been working so hard to hold in let loose, cascading down his cheeks in an instant. He hastily wipes them off, hiding his face. Shame seethes in his chest, white-hot and explosive.</p><p>"I'm sorry," he speaks. This time, he isn't only apologizing because of what happened to San, but for <em>everything</em>. Everything he's ever done in his past and present, and what he'll do in the future, all wrapped up in two words he knows will <em>never</em> make up for his many, many mistakes.</p><p>Hongjoong gulps, jaw clenching. He stares at San's brother's bed with so much anger and so much pain blurred into his narrowed eyes. <em>It's so unfair</em>, his irises scream, and it's when he looks away that the rage evaporates like steam, looking close to crumbling in on himself.</p><p>"I <em>swore</em>..." he says, "I swore after that day I'd always do my best to protect San. That was what Jongho wanted from the start. I told myself I wouldn't let anything bad happen to San -- that I wouldn't lose him like I lost his brother."</p><p>Wooyoung can't <em>bear</em> to look up, aware of Hongjoong's eyes on him. He feels like he shouldn't even be allowed to breathe right now.</p><p>"I...I told myself I'd always keep him safe. That was my promise," the older man keeps on going, keeps on splintering Wooyoung's heart with his verbal daggers. "I-I could've <em>lost</em> him today, Wooyoung. And that -- that fucking <em>terrifies</em> me. It terrifies me more than any other thing in this whole planet."</p><p>Wooyoung bites his lip as roughly as he can to keep the tears at bay (and because he deserves it), and tastes salt and regret. "I'm so sorry, hyung..." he whispers again and again, needlessly to the air, wanting to just <em>vanish</em> completely.</p><p>Enticing vanilla coats his senses as warm, unexpected arms encircle him, dragging him close. Wooyoung trips due to shock, but Hongjoong's there to catch him, stopping him from totally giving up on himself.</p><p>Wooyoung bawls into the man's shoulder, his pent-up frustration, sorrow and worries breaking free. Hongjoong's hold doesn't falter, fingers alternating between rubbing his nape and patting his back.</p><p>Wooyoung's words are a garbled disaster of apologies and shallow promises. He even apologizes for soaking Hongjoong's coat with his tears, even when the older tells him not to worry.</p><p>His sobs lighten when they leave the hospital room, but he's still a goddamn mess, hiccuping into his palms.</p><p>"Hey, hey," Hongjoong touches his shoulder. "It's okay."</p><p>Wooyoung nods, even when he knows it isn't true, even when <em>they</em> know it isn't true.</p><p>"You must be hungry. You've been seated here for <em>hours</em>."</p><p>"But -- " Wooyoung exhales feverishly, like he's just finished a marathon. "I -- San -- "</p><p>"You need to <em>eat</em>," Hongjoong cuts him off. His eyes are serious enough for the younger man to listen. "What do you want? I'll get it for you."</p><p>"You don't need to -- "</p><p>"<em>Wooyoung</em>." Hongjoong's glare comes as a surprise despite Wooyoung knowing he should've expected it.</p><p>"I'm sorry."</p><p>This time around, Hongjoong doesn't answer back.</p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Hongjoong takes him to a pizzaria that overlooks the animated nightlife of the city. The place, inspite of all the noise and chaos outside, doesn't have that many customers, its interior bright and speckled with muted amber tones.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Entering there, Wooyoung feels time slowing into a stop. He sits at the table Hongjoong gestures to like he's been manually programmed to do so, too distracted to even appreciate the appetizing smells wafting through the walls.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When Hongjoong asks the kind of pizza he wants, he gives a vague answer and gets a steaming plate of pizza with a different topping on each slice. Hongjoong even goes through the trouble of getting him drinks, chicken and a basket of breadsticks on the side, but nothing for himself.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"You aren't getting anything?" Wooyoung finds himself questioning, looking up from the food. The sight alone of the order is enough to make anyone hungry, but all Wooyoung feels at the moment is queasiness. He feels sick. Tired.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"I'm not in the mood." Hongjoong smiles, but it might as well never have been there because it does nothing to lessen the chill of his stare. "Seriously." He pushes the large plate of pizza Wooyoung's way. "Eat up."</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung's stomach twists with protest when he handles the crust of the first slice, but with the older's eyes focused on him, he has no other choice but to take a bite. The flavour melts in his mouth, a sweet and savoury combination of bacon and cheese. He places it back, wary of the moisture gathering at the back of his eyes.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Why are you not eating?" It's a simple question, but the way Hongjoong says it sounds accusatory, almost. <em>Why are you not eating what I bought you? Why are you wasting my time?</em></p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"I'm just -- " Wooyoung fumbles for an excuse, feeling like a little mouse trapped underneath the man's brutal stare. He fiddles with his drink and forces the straw to his lips, ice cold sprite washing down his throat. "I'm just a little thirsty, is all..."</p>
</div><p><br/>Hongjoong sighs. He folds his arms. "You're that worried, huh."</p><p><em>Worried</em> seems like a horrid understatement now that the man said it. Worried doesn't explain how Wooyoung feels as if his heart's being gouged out and left to bleed. Worried can't give reason to the way he's barely holding on, struggling against the tears that are fighting to make themselves known.</p><p>He forces himself to breathe as he nods. "Y-Yeah. Yeah, I am."</p><p>"San will be fine," Hongjoong assures. A second passes by. "No need to worry."</p><p>Wooyoung nods again. He goes back to that hospital room, to the man he'd never seen before today lying there, unresponsive. His throat closes up.</p><p>"San really cares about you, you know? I got reminded of that today. Didn't know how I'd managed to forget," Hongjoong says. When he and Wooyoung lock eyes, he passes a smile that looks a little more realistic this time. It doesn't last long, though. "I'd been with him after they'd gotten him fully situated into his room, and I remember him holding my hand before the pain meds pulled him under. He said, 'Hongjoong...I think I need to get into therapy again. So that I'll get better for Wooyoung'."</p><p>Wooyoung's hands shake where they lay on his thighs, grasping for air. He feels absolutely <em>crushed</em>, like he isn't even alive anymore.</p><p>"I admit," Hongjoong adds, "it made me shocked. This whole incident did. I'd known of San's history with drugs, but he was better now. I thought he was. I thought he was finally okay. He was doing so well..."</p><p>Wooyoung meets the man's gaze, the unspoken words in them loud and clear. "You...think I have something to do with it."</p><p>Hongjoong doesn't immediately answer, but it's obvious by now that the younger's right. It's enough to confirm his worst fears.</p><p>"You should keep eating," the older comments, staring at the untouched food between them. "Eat even if you feel like you can't. You'll need it, trust me."</p><p>Eventually, Wooyoung listens. He only takes small bites out of everything, his body unable to stomach more than that.</p><p>"San and I first met <em>years</em> before his brother was set to take over Choi's Highlight. His father was still in charge then, but he never failed to bring them along to all the get-togethers he'd been invited to. San back then was truly a sight to behold." Hongjoong chuckles, and for a short moment, he looks <em>himself</em> again. "He'd skip the ties and mess up his hair on purpose. He'd get loud and make snide comments about anyone who got on his bad side. We were never really friends until we started working in the same department, and I remember him always complaining about how much he <em>hated</em> his job.</p><p>"It's kind of an open secret that he despises being made CEO. Everyone knew, and sometimes couldn't keep their goddamn opinions to themselves." Hongjoong's lips purse at this, eyes flashing with contempt. He then sighs. "It's what his dad wanted though, so I made it my duty to help him out whenever I could and made sure he wasn't ever uncomfortable."</p><p>Wooyoung picks at an uneaten crust, heartbeat pounding in his ears. It's noisy, drowning him in it. "I'm sorry."</p><p>"Do you want to know how I got you hired for this job?"</p><p>Wooyoung perks up, the sudden topic change making his pulse quicken.</p><p>"Your neighbour, Kang Yeosang." Hongjoong leans over the table. "We're second cousins. He said he knew you from before, thought you were a nice guy. He said you'd need the job and that San would be fine in your hands, and I agreed."</p><p>Wooyoung should be stunned, or maybe even angry and <em>furious</em> that he'd been lied to and none of this had been a coincidence like he'd previously percieved it to be. But all that's left is <em>nothing</em>, an everlasting numbness that leaves him cold and fatigued. He can't bring himself to feel anything anymore. "...Okay."</p><p>"I trusted you too. I trusted you'd look after San and steer him off from harm's way, but you disappointed me," Hongjoong falters, not looking the younger male in the eye. "It's clear you both like each other, but San's wellbeing is my utmost priority right now. I need him to focus on getting better -- both physically and mentally -- and there <em>can't</em> be room for anything, or <em>anyone</em> else."</p><p>Everything stops. The ache the size of a bud in Wooyoung's chest expands a hundredfold, squeezing it for dear life. His head spins, heart getting sucked out dry. He feels like he's having a cardiac arrest.</p><p>"You..." the word is foreign and bizarre on his tongue, like he isn't even the one saying it. "You want me to <em>leave</em>."</p><p>"I think that will be best."</p><p>"Doesn't -- doesn't San get a say before you go about firing me?" He's grasping at straws at this point, excuses falling on deaf ears. He wants to cry, but now he's got no tears left. "He's my boyfriend too. He -- I can't just <em>leave him</em> when he needs me the most."</p><p>"Oh, I'm not firing you," Hongjoong states, tone resolute.</p><p>"<em>You'</em><em>ll</em> be the one quitting."</p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>The snow's a steady, predictable drizzle when Wooyoung arrives at San's house that Tuesday afternoon. Blocking off everything that has the chance to distract him, he enters in the passcode to the place, a small part of him anticipating it to not go through.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It does, however, and he doesn't waste them stepping in, eager to be free of the cold. The one encasing his heart is much harder to get rid of, but by now, Wooyoung's used to it.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Wooyoung?"</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung's head snaps up as soon as he hears the soft voice, and there, seated on the couch is San himself, staring back at him with round eyes.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"S-San -- " Wooyoung struggles to inhale. "How -- when -- "</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Wooyoung." San staggers to his feet, dressed in a simple black tee and pants. The left pant sleeve is rolled up to occupy the thick bandage now wrapped around the leg, stopping just above the knee. His dark hair's much shorter too, trimmed more below than on top.</p>
</div><p><br/>Wooyoung spots the crutches San has to handle to be able to stabilize himself, and the lump in his throat hardens. He's at a loss for words when San limps over to him with a smile on his face, very much like an excitable puppy rushing to meet its owner.</p><p>"Woo -- " San breathes, showing visible discomfort at having to support himself like this. "I can't -- I thought you'd never -- "</p><p>Wooyoung steadies him with his arm, afraid to even <em>hug</em> him in case he unintentionally hurts him. "It's okay, Sannie."</p><p>"I'm so glad you're here," San sputters, burying his head into the younger's neck, inhaling his scent. "I'm sorry I left you all alone while I was in that hospital. I'm sorry for fucking up and getting you into trouble. I'm so sorry for everything."</p><p>"There's nothing you need to feel sorry for," Wooyoung answers. "I'm just happy you're alright now."</p><p>"I'm happy I'm alright too, save for the few headaches I get sometimes." San drops his crutches and relaxes against Wooyoung in a hug, gripping onto his hoodie like he'd lose him if he doesn't do this. "I can also live without ever seeing Joongie's frowns again, <em>thank you very much</em>. They had to go stitch something, so I don't have cool hair anymore, either."</p><p>Wooyoung sniffs, nose stuffed as he shakes his head. "Why would I care about that when you're okay in my arms? I love you with any hair."</p><p><em>You have </em> <em>until the end of February.</em></p><p>He swallows, tries to take a step back, but San holds on, hands fisting the material of his clothes.</p><p>"Hey, hey," Wooyoung forces out a laugh, "I'm not gonna disappear."</p><p>"I know, but..." San watches him, <em>really</em> watches him. It's almost as if he can read him and figure what he's truly up to, and Wooyoung has to look away. Staring at San will only hurt him. "I'm just...trying to learn you all over again. I feel like the few days spent at the hospital skewed with my memories, making it seem like you weren't <em>real</em>. But here you are, right in front of me," San cups the younger's face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. "I don't ever want this moment to end, Wooyoung-ah."</p><p>Pain. Cold, hard pain clambers up behind Wooyoung's eye sockets, begging to be shed. But he rejects it and closes his eyes, pressing his forehead against San's. "Me too."</p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Mingi arrives that evening and makes the best dinner Wooyoung's ever tasted. He sits at the table and watches as the man dotes on San whenever he gets the opportunity, while San rejects his efforts time and time again with a giggle, sparing Wooyoung countless glances over that time period.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung sometimes meets his eye and returns a smile, but more often than not, he ignores the stares, pretending he doesn't notice how the man looks at him.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Bet you're happy you won't have to go to the office for some time, huh," Mingi jokes some-when after dinner's over.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"I am <em>not</em> happy this happened to me," San denies from his seat, waving his crutches to further prove his point. "But, at least you guys are around to keep me company."</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"As if you mean <em>me</em>," Mingi comments with a smile reeking of smugness, and if this were any other day, Wooyoung would've gotten flustered, cheeks bursting with warmth. Now, he just wants to not be here.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"You caught me," San replies, a bright, ecstatic smile illuminating his face. <em>So beautiful</em>. "I like Wooyoung <em>way</em> more."</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Mingi wipes off a fake tear. "Look at you pretending we haven't been friends for over four years. I even unloaded the dishwasher for you, thanks a lot."</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>San laughs, only for it to vanish as he attempts standing on his feet. Immediately, Wooyoung sprints over to him, hands on his hips.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"It's okay, Woo. I'm perfectly fine without your help," San's sneaky smile alludes to something else though. He gently pats the younger's ankle with a crutch, shifting past him with deep pink cheeks.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"San stares at you weird," Mingi tells Wooyoung when San's out of earshot, hugging one of his plushies tight as he looks through something on his phone. "Like you're a rare gem he can't let go of. Like you're this brilliant star. Something going on that I don't know about?"</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung's chest burns at his words, but he shakes his head. "There's nothing going on between us."</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>San is quieter that night, but the light in his eyes is ever present, gleaming even in the dark. He can't stop looking at Wooyoung, as if his face has something new to discover each time.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"...What?" Wooyoung whispers before the guilt can get to him.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>San's lips are faint against his, timid and considerate. "I just can't stop staring at you, Wooyoung-ah..."</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Why?"</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>San hums, dimples soon appearing. "There's no real reason. I just love looking at you."</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung gets the courage to run his fingers down the older's hair, cautious of his nape. San sighs under his touch, slipping in as close as his injured leg would allow. "How long will it take to heal?"</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Hm?"</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"...Everything. How long will it take to heal?"</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Several weeks? Months?" San shrugs, a defeated sigh breaking past his lips. "Joongie said I'll have to be more careful from now on. I'll also have to watch out for dizziness and headaches."</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>At the mention of Hongjoong's name, Wooyoung's mood sours. He can't help it, even though he's the one who brought this upon himself. "And... and what about the therapy? Will you still go?"</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Hongjoong says it'll be good for me." San's thumb outlines the shape of the shorter's mouth. "But you make me the happiest, Wooyoung-ah. I don't think anything else even comes close."</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung shuts his eyes and presses himself against San, acting like his words don't burden him to the point of despair.</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p><br/>Two weeks fly by.</p><p>Wooyoung spends them hyper-focused on his classes and his neverending essays, which thankfully distract him enough to not notice the changing days until he comes back home, San waiting for him with open arms.</p><p>In those moments, he'd have the urge to <em>say something</em>, to break off the news and leave before things get too deep, but then San would <em>look</em> at him, smile at him like he actually matters. They'd sit and talk about whatever for hours, and Wooyoung would pretend like a disaster isn't right around the corner waiting to happen.</p><p>He'll hold San every night, listening as<br/>San tells him about his day and the therapist he plans on visiting twice every week. And San will entwine their fingers which fit like missing puzzle pieces, peering right at him like he holds all the answers to the universe.</p><p>It's amazing. But it isn't going to last, and that makes him suffer.</p><p>It's the next week that Wooyoung grows extra anxious. He spends the first few days leaving early and coming back much later than he should, something he's one hundred percent sure San notices (of course he does).</p><p>(The man even messages him during class, not giving up until Wooyoung answers.</p><p>- <b>san</b>💝<br/><em>wooyoung-ah, are you really okay??</em></p><p>-<b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>yep</em></p><p><b>san</b>💝<br/><em>send a pic of you if </em><em>youre</em><em> telling the truth</em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/><em>seriously</em>?</p><p>- <b>san</b>💝<br/><em>mhm</em><em>!</em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b></p><p>
  <em>
    <a href="https://images.app.goo.gl/HS7zNBCNUV69zWTG6">[image attached]</a>
  </em>
</p><p>- <b>san</b>💝<br/><em>my god</em> 😍😍😍)</p><p>And that very Wednesday, Wooyoung arrives at the house to San dragging him inside, before pulling him into a deep, lingering kiss.</p><p>Wooyoung's eyes grow wide, alarm flaring inside him. He tries to move, but San's grip on his shirt is constant, lips trailing kisses down his jaw and neck.</p><p>"San," Wooyoung starts, blinking through the haze the older's intimacy encroaches him in. "San, stop. Oh my god -- <em>S</em><em>top</em>!"</p><p>San listens, but it's clear the younger's words have affected him. "Wooyoung..."</p><p>"I'm not mad, don't worry," Wooyoung has to assure the older. He notes the majorly dim livingroom, spotting the few small candles that flicker like molten lava in the dark.</p><p>"They look nice, right?" San asks, hand wrapped around a singular crutch. The wound on his leg has healed up enough to walk around a bit without a lot of external support.</p><p>The older's grin is visible when Wooyoung faces him, giving way to a mischievous pair of dimples. "...San, what is this?"</p><p>"Think of a date at the cinema, but without the cinema...or the popcorn," San answers, waddling into the kitchen. "But we have food! Mingi helped, by the way," he yells from the area.</p><p>"San..." <em>Why did you have to do this? Why do you make it so difficult for me to leave without it greatly hurting the both of us</em>? <em>Why do you love me when I keep on ruining everything</em>?</p><p>"Woo?" San's head pokes out from the kitchen's opening. His eyes are crinkled, joy sparkling in his irises. "We can eat first, or we can watch a movie. Either one's fine."</p><p>Wooyoung can't find the words to say, just nodding along. He's silent as he helps San set the food and the expensive liquor on the table before the TV, adding nothing of value as San cracks jokes and laughs at everything. He plops into the couch and cuddles up to Wooyoung, warm and practically <em>glowing</em>.</p><p>They choose their movie -- something with action that looks alright enough -- and as it begins, San chuckles to himself.</p><p>"What?" Wooyoung raises his eyebrows.</p><p>"It's just -- This would be the most <em>perfect</em> moment to have sex. Sucks I can't move without straining my leg or feeling some type of pain."</p><p>Wooyoung coughs, while San cackles, patting his chest.</p><p>"You alright?"</p><p>Wooyoung blushes. "Y-Yeah."</p><p>Fortunately, they make it through the movie without any more of those comments from San. Wooyoung doesn't eat much though. He <em>can't</em>, not when his guilty conscience is suffocating him.</p><p>"...Are you okay?"</p><p>Some of the candles have died out, swallowing them in darkness. But Wooyoung can still see San, still <em>feel</em> him. The older holds his hand, squeezing gently.</p><p>Wooyoung sighs. "I'm okay."</p><p>San scrunches his nose, surveying the younger's features. "You sure?"</p><p>"I'm sure." Wooyoung feels San's breathing on his lips, and before he knows it, he dodges his kiss, putting more space between them as a result.</p><p>"Wooyoung? Is something wrong?"</p><p>"<em>I'm fine</em>, San."</p><p>Seconds go by with neither of them speaking, not wanting to be the one to break the silence. San gets tired of it soon enough.</p><p>"Woo, please, <em>talk</em> to me."</p><p>"I said I'm fine."</p><p>"<em>No</em>." San gets up and switches on the lights, blowing out the dark. Exposed, Wooyoung wraps his arms around him, acting like the older's stare doesn't set flight to the stingrays in his stomach. "You don't get to pull this again. You don't get to lie to me. I thought we were past this."</p><p>"I'm not lying," Wooyoung presses, but he doesn't know who he's trying to fool.</p><p>"If you aren't, then look me in the eyes and say that to my face."</p><p>"Hyung, don't do this."</p><p>"Tell me what's going on, Wooyoung. You seem to have forgotten that we're <em>dating</em>. So we should figure our problems out together. Isn't this what couples do?"</p><p><em>What do I do when I can't stop hurting you</em>? Wooyoung bites his lip so hard he tastes blood. "There -- there isn't anything -- "</p><p>"Wooyoung!" San exclaims, startling said male. He balances on his crutch, looking close to falling apart. "Why are you doing this to me? Why do you keep pushing me away? Is this because of all the things I did? I've already apologized, and I'm willing to do it again and again if that means I'll get to earn back your trust. I'm sorry, Wooyoung. I'm so sorry for hurting and disappointing you."</p><p>"San...stop. <em>Please</em>."</p><p>"Tell me what I should do, Wooyoung-ah, because I don't want to lose you. I-I <em>can't</em> lose you -- "</p><p>"Let's break up."</p><p>Wooyoung hears the words before he registers they came from him, and suddenly something clatters roughly over the floor. His eyes take in San now on his knees, frozen like a statue, and as if he's on autopilot, he races to the man's side, trying to shake him out of his stupor.</p><p>"S-San -- " Wooyoung's heart drops when San smacks his hand off. "San, please..."</p><p>"You...you wanted to end this the whole time," San rasps, tone empty. A lone tear drips down his chin that he leaves unattended. "That's why you started behaving the way you had. Because you'd already let me go."</p><p>Wooyoung bites his lip, vision growing misty. "San, I..."</p><p>San turns, face distorted by the ever growing tears in his eyes. "<em>What</em>, Wooyoung? What the fuck do you want to <em>say</em>?"</p><p>San's never sounded like this before, never sounded this <em>mad</em>. Like he's lost all hope and he's lashing out to at least <em>feel</em> something on the inside.</p><p>"I'm sorry."</p><p>San pushes him aside to stand, but stumbles under his weight. Wooyoung breaks his fall, but yet again, San rips his hands off. "Let go of me."</p><p>Wooyoung shakes his head, holding on to the older's wrist. "S-San, we -- we wouldn't have worked out anyway. I nearly made you lose your life, made you cry and -- and I'm just no good for you. You treated me so well, <em>amazingly</em> even, but I didn't deserve any of it. I didn't deserve you."</p><p>San scoffs, but his eyes are rimmed with pink, cheeks wet. "You should really stop pitying yourself, Wooyoung. It's <em>tiring</em>."</p><p>It's hard to tell what exactly Wooyoung feels at that moment, but it's overwhelming, like a load of ice and electricity that's been dumped over him, setting his nerve-endings on <em>fire</em>.</p><p>"<em>Shut up</em>!" He screams. He doesn't even sound like himself, but he <em>can't stop</em>. "Shut the hell up, San. You don't get to tell me how I should feel. You have no <em>fucking</em> idea the things I've gone through. You know <em>nothing</em> of what I've experienced. You don't know shit, so you don't get to <em>stand there</em> and act all high and mighty like you can do no wrong!"</p><p>"You're not the only one who's had it tough, <em>Wooyoung</em>!" San snaps, the fury in his gaze alone taking him aback. "Stop trying to make everything about yourself! I <em>love you</em>, tried my hardest to do everything you wanted and took <em>care</em> of you. Although we didn't start off on the right foot, I strived to make you comfortable. I strived to make you <em>happy</em>. But I guess that wasn't enough, huh? All you ever cared about was <em>yourself</em>. In the end, <em>I</em> never mattered."</p><p>"Stop trying to guilt trip me by saying you love me!" Wooyoung hisses, unable to take it anymore. "We both know you latched on to me because you were alone and desperate, and I just so happened to be there!"</p><p>"<em>What did you just say</em>?" San growls. Despite the light, his face is shadowed, teeth gritted and eyes harsh. It stuns Wooyoung into silence. "Repeat what you just said."</p><p>"San, I -- " Wooyoung takes a step back. His heartbeat's erratic, speeding to insane lengths. "I-I didn't mean -- "</p><p>"Get out of my house."</p><p>"H-Hyung..."</p><p>"Get out of my house!" San shouts. There's no trace of sympathy in his voice, nothing that alludes to him regretting his decision. <em>You made him like this</em>. "I don't want to see your face ever again. Get out, get out, <em>get out</em>!"</p><p>Wooyoung whimpers, his tears smothering him. But San doesn't react. Instead, he turns his head, shutting him out for good.</p><p>And so Wooyoung runs, storming out the doors and into the freezing night air. He doesn't stop running until his feet tire out, until he can't tell the moon from the stars anymore.</p><p><em>Now, he's truly alone</em>.</p><p>He slows, collapses on the sidewalk leading to a neighbourhood he's never been to, and sobs.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>extra angsty chap since its my birthday ^^'</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. choi san is there</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>last 'official' chapter folks!</em>
</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>
      <em>《 the beginning of The End 》</em>
    </b>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>Wooyoung doesn't know how long he spends there on the ground; there's no concept of time when someone's just lost everything. He doesn't care if people are around or if they aren't, he just sits, arms squeezed around himself as he tries to breathe without succumbing to the numbing pain his heart's experiencing.</p><p>The memories of where everything started to go wrong are prevalent in his mind like fresh cuts, and San's last words are the salt to the wounds, more painful and agonizing than anything Wooyoung's ever felt before.</p><p>He tells himself to <em>calm the hell down</em> -- to fucking relax and try and clear his thoughts -- but he <em>can't</em>. He can't <em>do anything</em> but lie there by himself like deadweight, completely hopeless. He's lost his will, all his motivation to help himself. And at this moment in time, he doesn't have the strength to even <em>care</em>.</p><p>"<em>Wooyoung</em>?"</p><p>The voice is a whisper, but closer than Wooyoung would imagine it to be. His name's called again, but he can't find it in himself to move or respond, stuck in one position with his arms wrapped around his knees in a death grip. His limbs ache and his chest fucking <em>hurts</em>, but it's alright 'cause he deserves it.</p><p>"Wooyoung..." Said male hears footsteps approaching, growing louder with each second that passes. He glares at the ground, far too ashamed to meet the person's eye. "Are you okay?"</p><p>Wooyoung hastily rubs his nose, sniffling in the process. He doesn't know who he's deceiving, though. It's obvious they both know he's been bawling his eyes out.</p><p>Not trusting his voice to come out stable, he just settles on a slow nod. Right now, however, he just wants whoever it is before him to <em>get lost</em>.</p><p>"You're crying." The deep, soothing timbre of the person's voice is definitely masculine, its familiarity making itself known through Wooyoung's tearful state. "You sure you're alright?"</p><p>Wooyoung nods, much faster this time. His lips wobble at the worst moment, and he clamps a hand over them, attempting to muffle out his quiet cries. Fuck, why does it hurt <em>so much</em>?</p><p>"Wooyoung -- "</p><p>"<em>I said I'm f-fine</em>," Wooyoung forces out, voice breaking at the end. A hand lands on his shoulder, something that's supposed to be a comforting move, but it just adds to the tension building up inside him, adds to the heavy tears weighing down his eyes. "I'm fine."</p><p>A sigh, soft and notably sympathetic. "You must be cold. Here."</p><p>Warm fabric drapes over Wooyoung's hunched form right then, ridding him of the biting cold. He freezes at the contact, swallows down the lump in his throat.</p><p>"Why are you here?" Wooyoung exhales, his ribs feeling like they've been screwed shut, stopping his lungs from taking flight. He looks up, meeting Yeosang's round eyes through the vivid orange streetlights beaming in the dark. The man's face betrays no emotions, and his gaze is unwavering. Composed. "How -- how did you find me?"</p><p>Yeosang pauses, as if he's thinking over his words and trying to figure out the right way to say them. "...You called me. Said you weren't too far off from where Choi San lives. I had to drive around a bit before I finally saw you."</p><p>Wooyoung blinks, can't recall ever dialing the older's number. "I -- I called you?"</p><p>Yeosang nods with a faint smile. "You did."</p><p>Wooyoung guesses he really must've lost it, as he definitely can't remember calling Yeosang to come for him. But it doesn't matter though, not when he's managed to fuck up the only good thing that's ever happened to him. Now, he's back to square one. He's back to the pathetic, pitiful shell of himself he thought he'd finally left behind him. <em>Now </em><em>I'</em><em>ve</em> <em>totally</em><em> failed</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung has a hunch he looks as much of a mess as he feels, because Yeosang stretches out his hand to him, as if beckoning him to stand.</p><p>"Staying here isn't going to do you any favours," the taller advises. "You'll just risk getting hypothermia."</p><p>Wooyoung inhales the frozen night air into his lungs, shudders rolling down his spine. His tears are like ice frosting over his cheeks. "Okay."</p><p>He doesn't make a move to get up however, and Yeosang has to guide him to his feet, hands on his elbows to keep him grounded. It's embarrassing, and the action's enough to send another round of tears that clog his eyesight.</p><p>"Did something happen?" Yeosang asks. "Why aren't you in Choi San's house right now? Did you two fight?"</p><p>Wooyoung chews his lip, fists trembling. "U-Um," he stammers, "no. It's nothing."</p><p>"It clearly isn't 'nothing'," Yeosang states. His tone is gentle, and he doesn't once raise his voice. It has the opposite effect on Wooyoung, making him feel as though he's a child that's gotten into trouble.</p><p>He stares out into the road, having to hug himself to feel <em>sane</em>. He's broken apart on the inside, heart mercilessly trampled on and sucked out dry. He struggles to even breathe normally, each inhale a hassle to his already weary bones. He doesn't know how long he can continue to take this.</p><p>"Are you not working there anymore?"</p><p><em>Yes. And it's nothing but my fucking fault</em>, Wooyoung thinks, but he doesn't say it. He <em>can't</em>, mouth taped shut.</p><p>"<em>Wooyoung</em>," Yeosang looks at him, "I'm not asking you to tell me every single detail. But I at least need to know something considering you decided to call me so late at night. It's the least you can do."</p><p>Wooyoung gulps, throat constricted to immeasurable lengths. "I -- " he licks his lips, cringing at how dry they are, "I'm not working there anymore."</p><p>There's silence for a moment, but it's a moment <em>too long</em> and Wooyoung starts to panic, avoiding Yeosang's focused stare.</p><p>"Where are your things then?" Yeosang then asks, his question nearly lost to the wind.</p><p>Wooyoung huffs a haggard breath. He laughs, but it's fake. Like those laughing tracks put on comedy shows to try and make things more lighthearted when in fact they never seem to work more than half the time. "Guess I ran too quickly and got out before I could pack all my stuff. Got a little distracted back there, silly me."</p><p>Yeosang doesn't quite <em>as</em> look amused at his dilemma. It's like he's seeing right through Wooyoung's facade, realizing he's just this fucked up being that has lost in life in more ways than one and says the wrong things at the wrong times. That he's really nothing special, really nothing worth caring for.</p><p>"What happened?"</p><p>Wooyoung shrugs, his weak attempt to deflect all the pain. "Things happened... And then I decided to leave. San doesn't want me around anymore."</p><p>"You need to get your belongings though," Yeosang says lowly, fishing through his pocket for something. It takes few seconds, but soon enough, a car key flashes in his hand.</p><p>"He said he doesn't want to see my face again," Wooyoung continues. He doesn't really know why he's adding all this, but it certainly alleviates a bit of the burden crushing down on him. Unfortunately, saying those words out loud make his predicament a lot more <em>real</em>, a lot more harrowing. "He doesn't want me back."</p><p>Yeosang's eyebrows pinch, a frown tugging at his delicate features. He looks far more cool-headed than Wooyoung's ever had the priviledge of feeling, and Wooyoung <em>envies</em> him for that. Envies him to death. "I'm sure he doesn't mean it."</p><p>Moisture gathers at the corners of Wooyoung's eyes. "He hates me."</p><p>"I don't think he does," Yeosang refutes. "He doesn't seem like that type of person, unless you like, murdered his dog or something."</p><p>Wooyoung lets out a mirthless, bitter chuckle. "You don't even know him."</p><p>"It's true. I don't, not really, but Hongjoong's told me quite a bit about him." Yeosang smiles. "We're second cousins. I'm sorry I never mentioned it before."</p><p>Irritation bubbles in Wooyoung's chest at the mention of Hongjoong's name, but he doesn't dare get mad. He doesn't have the luxury to, not when he's ruined everything. "It's okay. Hongjoong told me a few weeks ago actually..."</p><p>Yeosang's frown deepens, and Wooyoung has to look away, hating how <em>vulnerable</em> he feels. "I'll take you to my house, get you rested. Then you'll be able to go on from there." He bites his lip. "Does Hongjoong know?"</p><p>Wooyoung fumbles around with the loose sleeves of the older's coat, wanting to distract himself with something. He doesn't want to talk about it, just wants to brush tonight off as some dumb nightmare that'll hopefully be gone by morning, even though he <em>knows</em> that isn't the case in the slightest. "I... I'm a little cold..."</p><p>He's clearly trying to change the topic, and luckily, Yeosang buys it, at least for the time being. The older isn't pushy or invasive with his questioning, which Wooyoung's learned to appreciate. Getting him to talk about the catastrophe that is tonight would only result in more unwanted tears and heartbreak, things he just <em>isn't</em> in the mood to experience right now.</p><p>"Right." Yeosang nods, ruffling his caramel coloured locks. They're fluffy under this light, sprinkled with light snow. "You were probably out here for some time. You need warmth."</p><p>Wooyoung says nothing while the man leads him to his car parked just across the street, keeping his eyes locked on the inky gravel road the whole time. His guilt is eating him alive and leaving nothing to spare, thoughts spewing negativity into the four walls of his mind. He can't block them out, no matter how hard he tries.</p><p>The vehicle's polyester seats are like a welcome hug, cozy and comforting. The heater drives away the last bit of the cold, and Wooyoung wrings and wriggles his chilled fingers, sighing in relief when the goosebumps finally fade away.</p><p>He barely reacts as Yeosang enters the driver's side of the car and adjusts his seat-belt, his exhales forming condensation markings on the smooth windows. His jaw clenches as he remembers how San drew lovely little snowmen on the window of <em>his</em> car, and he tries to will the memory away, all to no avail.</p><p>Wooyoung is sure Yeosang's full of curiosity as to why he's outside San's house so late at night; he can see it in his eyes. That's why he's thankful the older doesn't persist in gaining more information on it from him, because he seriously can't deal with any of it right now.</p><p>The drive to Yeosang's house is mostly quiet, filled with stale ads and pop playlists echoing from the radio. They circle around Wooyoung's head, easy to acknowledge, but they're never absorbed, his brain too occupied with images of San and San alone. San looking at him, San smiling at him, San kissing him, San holding his hand. San, San, <em>San</em>.</p><p>Despite Wooyoung just meeting the man <em>months</em> ago, he has no idea how he'd ever managed to live without him. How he'd ever managed to wake up and go about his day without talking to San and holding him in his arms. He doesn't know how he survived without San's encouragement, his laughter, his <em>joy</em>. But he <em>knows</em> he doesn't ever want to go back to those times again, and it makes this whole ordeal hurt a million times worse.</p><p>He's messed everything up, and now San has left him.</p><p>Wooyoung doesn't know how it happens, but by the time Yeosang parks the car, he's drowning in his tears, wanting to wipe them all off but he's failing. Miserably.</p><p>"Shit," he hears Yeosang whisper, and then the man's patting his back, causing him to curl further into himself. "Hey, hey, Wooyoung. It's gonna be okay, hm? Things will be alright."</p><p>Wooyoung's gasping for air, sobbing like a goddamn toddler who didn't get their desired candy on Halloween. He's lost all sense of control, something he'd strived <em>so hard </em>to achieve all these years. He convinced himself he'd be strong and get through whatever life hurled at him in one piece, but here he is, disembodied and whimpering over a guy he'd screwed over.</p><p>"You'll be fine..." Yeosang keeps on muttering these hushed promises, but all they do is enter through one ear and out the other. "Everything will be fine."</p><p>Wooyoung swallows thickly, blinking a few times. He gives a curt nod, following behind Yeosang after he opens the door.</p><p>The weight of his phone is heavy in his jean pocket, begging to be taken and used. He wants to switch it on and call San, hear his voice -- <em>anything</em> -- but he knows it'll do no good. The older would probably never pick up. In fact, maybe he's already blocked his number.</p><p>"Normally, since your things are over at San's place," Yeosang's voice draws Wooyoung out of his thoughts, and it's then he realizes they're already inside the house. "We would've went to get them. But it's late, and you need to sleep. I don't have two bedrooms though, unfortunately, but I can always take the couch."</p><p><em>It's all your fault this happened. Now you're just burdening him</em>. Wooyoung quickly shakes his head. "No -- no, it's okay. It's <em>your</em> house after all. I'll sleep on the couch instead."</p><p>But Yeosang's eyes narrow, studying Wooyoung again. The younger averts his gaze instantly, wanting to avoid further inspection. "Wooyoung, I may not know what happened, but that doesn't mean I don't see how much it's affected you. You don't have to worry yourself; I'm fine sleeping in the livingroom if that means you'll get a decent night's rest. We can figure things out tomorrow."</p><p>Wooyoung stares at the carpeted floor, unease and shame flooding him. He doesn't deserve all this, doesn't deserve it <em>at all</em>, but he is grateful, relieved he won't have to spend the night wandering about like the coward he is. "T-Thank you."</p><p>Yeosang passes him a friendly grin. "No biggie. Hey, have you eaten?"</p><p>Flashes of San's body cuddled up to him, of them laughing and holding hands as they watched the movie enter Wooyoung's head like a beam of light in the dark. The tightness in his chest swells, choking him and cutting his breaths short. He has to forcefully curl his lips upwards as he peers up at Yeosang, feeling nothing less than some puppet bending under Fate's control.</p><p>"I have. Dinner." His voice is raspy and disjointed, but fortunately, Yeosang makes no comments on it.</p><p>The man is light on his feet, ushering Wooyoung down his neat apartment like he's got somewhere to be. Wooyoung just nods along to his passing remarks and emptily pins on a smile at his watered down jokes, head overflowing with San and how he's completely destroyed everything between them.</p><p>"This is my room. Don't worry -- just changed the sheets and everything. The bed's comfy too," Yeosang's saying, drawing Wooyoung's attention to the room itself. Much like the rest of Yeosang's apartment, the room is tidy, painted beige with cream bread-spreads and a small lamp that shines deep blue when Yeosang turns it on. "And if you want, you can leave the lamp on. I do that sometimes as it helps when I'm feeling particularly stressed."</p><p>"Thank you so much," Wooyoung mumbles. He doesn't <em>belong</em> here, doesn't belong in someone else's house where he's just infringing on their privacy. He's used to much bigger bedrooms, with wide beds and bright blue blankets with little white birds on them. Used to waking up in warm arms dotted with freckles and moles he'll spend his time admiring and running his fingers over, giggling under saccharine smiles that'll press gentle kisses to his ears and neck. He's used to it all, and he misses it dearly. Knowing he'll most likely never have that again makes his heart shatter.</p><p>"You're welcome." Yeosang's eyes are inquisitive, as if he just <em>knows</em>. "I'll get you something suitable to sleep in. And <em>no</em>, you can't refuse." He laughs, heading for the wardrobe on the other side of the room.</p><p>Wooyoung takes the time to bring out his phone, but almost immediately regrets it when the screen lights up. San's face infiltrates his vision, lips pulled into a blinding grin that showcases his lovely dimples. Wooyoung's breath gets knocked out of him, and his legs nearly give way. He has to lean against the wall to balance himself.</p><p>"Wooyoung?" Yeosang speaks up, turning to face him with a bunch of folded clothes in hand. The younger man spots what appears to be pyjama bottoms, and feels his heartbeat skyrocket. "Are you okay?"</p><p>Wooyoung nods like he's trying to <em>convince</em> himself that he is. "Yeah. I'm...fine."</p><p>Yeosang grins. "Okay. I'll take your word for it."</p><p>Yeosang's clothes, a loose grey sweater and black pyjama bottoms that drag a bit behind the soles of Wooyoung's feet, fit him well and do a good enough job in keeping out the cold.</p><p>"Does your phone need to charge?" Yeosang dangles a cord.</p><p>Wooyoung's too afraid to switch on his phone again to check the battery percentage. "I-I guess." He passes the older man the device, pointedly looking away when Yeosang plugs it in.</p><p>Before long, Wooyoung lays himself on the bed, trying not to let the awkwardness get to him. The blue light from the lamp is soothing, casting indigo shadows atop the sheets.</p><p>He looks up, and there Yeosang is by the doorway, looking at him. The older's lips curve upwards when their eyes lock.</p><p>"I don't wanna sound like a <em>mom</em>, but," he chuckles, and Wooyoung breathily laughs, "it's like, past eleven. Don't know about you, but I would wanna get some shut-eye before the next day arrives."</p><p>Wooyoung stares at his lap, willing his hands to stop shaking. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."</p><p>"And also, it may not seem like it now, but I like to believe things will get better," Yeosang adds. "Maybe it won't get better <em>now</em>, or tomorrow, or even next week, but...<em>eventually</em>, it will. Some may call it being <em>too</em> optimistic, but I just like looking on the bright side of things."</p><p>Wooyoung sniffs, pushing his fingers down his hair. He nods, and although he can't find it in him to believe Yeosang's words have any truth in them, he still wants to <em>try</em>. "Okay." He purses his lips. "...But what happens when I'm the one who's fucked things up?"</p><p>"Then you apologize and get better."</p><p><em>What if apologizing won't work this time? What if I'</em><em>ve</em><em> already ran out of all my remaining chances</em><em>? What if </em><em>I'</em><em>ve</em><em> already</em><em> lost my shot?</em> Yeosang's words seem so <em>simple</em>, so straightforward. Wooyoung wants to hope, to find some comfort in what the man said, but with the way things are, he'll be lucky if him and San even end up becoming <em>friends</em> again.</p><p>"I've ruined our relationship," Wooyoung says, picking his nails. "I -- I said some things that I should never have said, things I'm pretty sure no apology can ever fix."</p><p>"How are you so sure?" Yeosang replies, nonplussed about Wooyoung's confession. "You'll never know until you try. I don't know, but the way he looked at you that time in front of my house made it pretty clear he cares a lot about you."</p><p>"But I..." Wooyoung nibbles his lip, "I <em>hurt</em> him."</p><p>"Give it some time and allow the both of you to cool down first, and then explain yourself."</p><p>"How do you know all this?"</p><p>"There's this guy I'm seeing," Yeosang admits. "He's a bartender. We're on and off, I guess. Sometimes he gets mad, or I get mad and then we need some space. But we always find a way to make it work despite our conflicting schedules and everything else."</p><p>"Oh."</p><p>Yeosang smiles at him. "Don't think about it too much and drive yourself crazy over it." He knocks lightly on the door, as if announcing his departure. "Goodnight, Wooyoung."</p><p>"Goodnight, Yeosang."</p><p>The door shuts, greeting Wooyoung with silence. He looks over the room and sighs, wondering what's going to become of him now.</p><p>His phone blinks from the nightstand, its battery fully charged. Wooyoung contemplates just ignoring it for the night, but the temptation's too high and he ends up disconnecting it from the cord, placing it beside him.</p><p>His thumb swipes over the screen, San's bright smile stitching itself into his brain. Wetness stings the back of his eyes, which he has to shut to keep them at bay. He <em>knows</em> he shouldn't be doing this, knows it'll only worsen the ache in his heart, but he doesn't heed to any of the voices in his head spewing about how this is a bad idea, staring blankly at his lockscreen photo until his eyes start to strain.</p><p>Unable to take it anymore, he unlocks the phone and drags his finger to the call app, wondering what good it'll do if he decides to dial San's number now. But he's always been one to make terrible choices in life, after all.</p><p>San's number shows as the one he's most recently rung up, and Wooyoung calls him again, desensitized throughout as if he's a stranger in his own body.</p><p>The call goes, on and on. Then straight to voicemail.</p><p>Wooyoung tries again, heart in his throat. Voicemail.</p><p>He keeps trying, over and over again like a broken record, because maybe then he'll be able to ward off the inevitable for a little while longer.</p><p>But he keeps getting sent to voicemail, San's repeated voice burning through his eardrums until it's everything he thinks about.</p><p>"<em>H</em><em>ey, if I don't respond it means I'm probably asleep -- or dead! Seriously. I hate leaving calls unanswered</em>. <em>Drop something and I may just send something back!</em><em>"</em></p><p>Wooyoung cries into the blankets, even until his shoulders start to tremble and a flurry of tears stain his cheeks. And he <em>can't stop</em>, desperate sobs muffled by the comforter. He doesn't know what to do, how to go about cutting San loose from his life. He doesn't <em>want to</em>, but it's a little too late to be saying that now, isn't it?</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Yeosang the next morning looks like someone has wronged him. He greets Wooyoung with squinted eyes and a terse jaw, passing him a mug of coffee.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung doesn't get the chance to ask what's wrong, because the older speaks up right then.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Have any classes today?"</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Thanks, and uh, not in the morning." Wooyoung freezes, dread seeping into him like melted ice. "My eye..." he mutters offhandedly, but his voice must've been louder than he thought, because Yeosang looks at him.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"What happened to your eye? Did you hurt it or something?"</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"It's just -- " Wooyoung stares at his drink. "I'm not wearing contacts..."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Oh, <em>that</em>." Yeosang shrugs, a bit of his frown disappearing. "I kinda already knew you had different coloured eyes."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung looks up at that, stunned. "Really?" </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"I've seen you around a couple times without them." Yeosang answers. "I first met you when we were thirteen. I had glasses and you bought me a blue raspberry slushie. I'd just told you about my dad."</p>
</div><p><br/>It takes Wooyoung a minute before he can piece the long lost memory together, but when he finally does, his eyes light up in shock. "That...that was <em>you</em>?"</p><p>"Yeah. I'd never introduced myself, which I regretted a few days later. We could've been good friends back then."</p><p>"Yeah, we could have..." Wooyoung says, still extremely stunned. All these years when his mind would grow idle, he'd find himself thinking about the boy he'd met at that cafe, wondering just who he was not knowing he'd been right in front of him the entire time. "Fuck," he lets out, cracking a dry laugh, "I really didn't expect that."</p><p>"It's my fault for not saying anything earlier," Yeosang tells him, laughing as well. "But I thought you wouldn't have remembered."</p><p>"Well I <em>do</em> remember."</p><p>"That's good."</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>Awkwardness aside, they make breakfast and chat a bit, not acknowledging the elephant in the room for the time being. It's when they're done that Yeosang looks at him, a thoughtful expression on his face.</p><p>"We should go get your things since you don't have class this hour."</p><p>"Oh." Wooyoung swallows down the heavy lump in his throat. "Y-Yeah, of course."</p><p>"I talked to Hongjoong last night while you were asleep." Yeosang packs up the plates and utensils. "He said he's sorry and will help you get a new place to stay. He'll also wire you your last pay."</p><p>Wooyoung nods, too numb to do much else. "Alright."</p><p>Yeosang's palm lingers on his shoulder, grounding him even when his thoughts and emotions are haywire. "It's going to be fine, Wooyoung."</p><p>Wooyoung desperately hopes he's right.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung knows it's highly moronic of him, but a part of him can't help but wish that San's still around in his house, as anxious as he is as he awaits his return. He wants to believe that San <em>misses</em> him too, that San regrets this just as much as he does and is willing to move past all this as well.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When Yeosang parks the car like he'd done the last time he drove into this neighbourhood, he casts Wooyoung an encouraging smile like he's cheering him on, and although it doesn't do much in the grand scheme of things, the younger still appreciates it. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Hopefully, you two can sort things out today. But if that isn't the case, it isn't the end of the world, alright? I'll be here, waiting," is what Yeosang continues with, and Wooyoung nods, exiting the car after a few more reassurances from the older.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>When Wooyoung is let past the gates, he has to pause and take a couple breaths to steady himself. As if the worst mistake he'd ever committed hadn't happened the night before, the garden and house are in pristine shape, not a single thing out of place. He tries to gauge if anyone's around by focusing on the windows, but most of them have been shut, blocking out the rest of the world.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p><em>It's okay</em>, he keeps telling himself. <em>It's fine. I'</em><em>ll</em><em> apologize and keep apologizing until he believes me. We'</em><em>ll</em><em> be okay</em>. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>After what seems like forever has passed, Wooyoung gains the courage to press the doorbell, and waits.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Quicker than he's definitely anticipated, the doors click open, and he's face to face with someone that <em>isn't</em> San. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>A middle-aged woman's face greets him, Wooyoung briefly recognizing her as one of the people who tidied the house in the evenings. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Hello, Jung Wooyoung-ssi," she speaks, a faint smile on her features. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Um, hi." Wooyoung purses his lips, pretends the woman's presence so early in the morning isn't because of him. "Is...is Choi San around?"</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"No." The woman steps aside, allowing him into the vicinity. Wooyoung enters after her, feeling like he's seeing the place for the first time ever. "I suppose you aren't working here anymore?"</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung stiffly nods, lightheaded. "Yeah."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"He told me you'd probably be around at this time of day, and to get your things ready for you."</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung's heart drops, but he nods again, determined to hold it together. "Okay."</p>
</div><p><br/>Wooyoung stays silent as he heads into the room that isn't his anymore, glad the lady leaves him alone at that moment.</p><p>All of his things have been packed, and he means <em>all</em>, tucked into the same suitcases he'd first arrived at this place with. The action's cold, conveying its message loud and clear.</p><p>Wooyoung almost doesn't want to touch them, almost wants to forget that they exist and pretend that all of this is nothing other than a cruel joke. But when have his wishes ever been answered?</p><p>Not wanting to give up just yet, he dials San's number. It goes straight to voicemail, just like his other attempts. This time, Wooyoung takes the plunge, grabbing onto the opportunity with both hands.</p><p>"San, I..." he squeezes his eyes shut, the silence on the other line like torture. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I miss you like crazy, and...and I know this is all my fault. B-But I still miss you. <em>Fuck</em>." Frustrated at everything, especially <em>himself</em>, he messes up his hair, pulling at the strands. "I -- I <em>know</em> I don't deserve it and I've fucked up beyond repair, but please, I -- I need to hear your voice. I need to see you, to <em>talk</em> to you. I'm so fucking sorry for everything, San. So sorry. Please give me another chance. <em>Please</em>..."</p><p>By the time he's done, he's crying again, a heartbroken heap on the floor. He sniffs, dabs off the remaining tears with his sleeve and pushes himself to stand, glaring at the luggages as if they'll vanish off from existence if he stares at them hard enough.</p><p>But in reality, he ends up leaving the house with his belongings, possibly for good.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p><em>"I apologize if this call comes as a huge shock to you, Jung Wooyoung-ssi, but -- I just couldn't find it within myself to let you go. I'm alright with you rejecting my offer this time around, but not after you at least give it a shot. Try it out for yourself, see if you like it. I promise you won't regret it.</em>"</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Thirty-five days pass, giving way to fully melted snow and flourishing flowers. Wooyoung struggles to get used to his new routine without San in it, but that means nothing when every other day he'll call the older, only to get rejected each time.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He knows it's pointless at this point, just like how it's pointless to keep the things San bought for him inside the new apartment he himself rented, but that doesn't stop him from hanging on, hoping that one day he'd get to visit San again.</p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It's Saturday, the sky a cloudless blue thst's nearly as luminous as the brilliant sunlight. Wooyoung's on the bed, laptop placed in front of him as it plays a lecture he's <em>supposed</em> to be listening to. All he can think about is laying under the covers of San's bed as he holds him close, lazily watching the hours tick by. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>"<em>Stop thinking about him</em>," he whispers to himself, but what good does that do when everywhere he looks reminds him of the older? </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It's a sunny afternoon, coupled with strong winds that succeed in fizzling their way through Wooyoung's windows. He doesn't mind them, doesn't even feel them on his skin as he slowly twirls around the butterfly bracelet hanging from his wrist, getting lost in his thoughts again. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Mingi told him it'd do him no good -- he'd even said that this morning when they'd talked. The man's the only one from San's friend group that Wooyoung's managed to keep close without his conscience beating him up about it, and sometimes he'd get the man to fess up about how San's now doing. He doesn't do that anymore however, and Wooyoung can't blame him. </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Chewing his lower lip, he drags his gaze over to the laptop screen again, forcing himself to concentrate.</p>
</div><p><br/>He's about to just shut the thing and call it a day when his phone vibrates on his lap, its screen brightening. He spares it a glance, only to stop in his tracks at the caller ID.</p><p><em>It's San</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung launches for the phone without much thought, snapping himself out of his stupor. He swipes <em>accept</em> and puts the phone to his ear, his heart pounding away in his chest.</p><p>"Hey," he exhales.</p><p>There's stillness on the other line for a moment, but soon Wooyoung hears a quiet <em>hey</em> too, and his heart skips a beat.</p><p><em>"I see you haven't changed your number,</em>" San continues. His voice is <em>so soft</em>, so faint as if he's afraid of being caught talking to Wooyoung. "<em>It's still the same.</em>"</p><p>"Yeah." Wooyoung scratches his nape. He can't believe this is happening. "You too. Uh, you haven't changed your number as well."</p><p>"<em>Yeah</em>."</p><p>There are a million words Wooyoung wants to say to the man, a million questions he wants to ask. But he's aware his time is limited, especially when he has no idea when he'll have the chance to speak to San like this again. "Are you doing okay?"</p><p>"<em>Yes</em>," San's reply is quick, as if he'd been expecting those words. "...<em>I also recieved your voicemails, all twenty-two of them</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung delivers a tight-lipped smile at that. "Yeah, sorry about those." He breathes in. "I was worried about you."</p><p>"<em>Okay</em>."</p><p>"<em>I'm sorry</em>," Wooyoung blurts. "I know it'll never make up for what I did, but I'm so sorry, San. I don't know what came over me back then, and I don't expect you to forgive me. I know it's too much to expect things to go back to the way they were, but I just -- I just want you to <em>talk</em> to me again."</p><p>"<em>Woo</em>..." Wooyoung's chest tightens at the mention of that nickname, "<em>I'</em><em>ve</em><em> already forgiven you.</em>"</p><p>His words take the younger aback. "You -- you <em>have</em>?"</p><p>"<em>Yeah</em>." San sighs. "<em>It was hard, yes, because you hurt me really bad. But I hurt you too, which I'm sorry about</em>."</p><p>"You don't need to be sorry about anything," Wooyoung says, wiping his wet cheeks. "<em>I'm</em> the one who caused this in the first place."</p><p>San doesn't immediately reply, but when he does, he asks Wooyoung how he's doing. "<em>I heard you do a little modeling on the side now. Congrats</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung nods even though San can't see him, his grip on his phone tight. "Thank you, hyung. And, uh..." he bites his lip. "I saw you resigned on the news."</p><p>San chuckles at this, the sound warming Wooyoung on the inside. "<em>Technically I need like, a full year before officializing my departure, but I got them to finalize it with the situation on ground. They're planning to appoint someone new for the job, but it'</em><em>ll</em><em> most likely go to </em><em>Hongjoong</em> <em>hyung</em><em>. I'm just glad I won't have to do it anymore, guilt be damned.</em> <em>Jongho</em> <em>hyung</em><em> wouldn't want me chained to something I wasn't interested in.</em>" He pauses and exhales, sounding tired. "<em>I'm rambling, aren't I? Sorry. I guess I'</em><em>ve</em><em> been so used to talking about everything with you</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung gulps. "I'm okay with it though. You can tell me anything."</p><p>"<em>Anything</em>?"</p><p>"Yeah..."</p><p>"<em>I want you to promise me you'</em><em>ll</em><em> be happy and only do what you love</em>," San says. "<em>Please. Though things didn't end well between us, I don't want you moping around or feeling sorry for yourself</em>."</p><p>"<em>San</em>." Wooyoung panics, sitting up. "Why -- why are you saying this to me?"</p><p>"<em>I want you to move on</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung's eyes are wide, brimming with unshed tears. He's at a loss for words, doesn't know what to do. "I can't <em>move on</em>, San. I did you wrong and I <em>know</em> that. I know I ruined things and broke your heart, but I -- I still <em>want you</em>, hyung. I-I still love you. I've never stopped."</p><p>"<em>Wooyoung</em>..."</p><p>"I know you feel the same. I know you probably hated me that night and maybe you still do right now, but I -- I still fucking need you, San. I <em>need you</em> and I miss you to death, and -- and everyday without you is fucking <em>torture</em>. Please don't do this to me," Wooyoung whimpers into his arms, tears soaking through his shirt. "Please don't push me away this time."</p><p>"<em>I'm sorry, Woo</em>." San's voice is deeper, more hoarse. "<em>Hongjoong</em><em> told me what he did, how he told you to quit. I should'</em><em>ve</em><em> put two and two together when I noticed the way you were after I'd returned from the hospital, but I was so mad back then. I was so bitter and angry at you and what you said, and I hated that you gave up on us so easily, but...but I guess that helped put some things into perspective</em>."</p><p>"...San?" Wooyoung voices out when the silence prolongs. "Say something, please."</p><p>"<em>You made me happy, </em><em>Wooyoung</em><em>,</em>" San says. "<em>And I realized that's where things went so wrong. People shouldn't be the sole source of your happiness. I relied too much on you to cheer me up, up until I spent every waking second devising ways to get you closer to me. It was unhealthy, and it put a lot of pressure on you to make me smile, something I'd been blind to before now. And I'm very sorry</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung quickly shakes his head. "There's no need to apologize for anything. I just want you here again. I just want to be with you, San. I promise I won't hurt you again, I promise I'll be better."</p><p>"<em>Be better for yourself, </em><em>Wooyoung</em>," San says. "<em>It's all I want for you. I'm still trying to adjust, still trying to heal. I don't want to drag you down with me. I don't want you getting hurt.</em>"</p><p>"S-San," Wooyoung begs, sobbing uncontrollably. He's a <em>disaster</em>; so fucking pathetic, but he can't let San go. Not now, not ever. "Don't do this. Please don't do this."</p><p>"<em>Wooyoung</em><em>, it's okay. You can't die on me,</em>" San pleads, voice alarmed. "<em>Hey, you need to breathe properly. Take deep breaths, Woo. Please, you aren't -- </em><em>Wooyoung</em><em>, breathe. In and out, in and out. You can do it.</em>"</p><p>Wooyoung tries to listen, tries to take the older's advice. But it's so <em>difficult</em> when his lungs feel as though they've been punched in, leaving no room for air. "I-I'm trying."</p><p>San requests a video chat, to Wooyoung's shock, but Wooyoung eagerly accepts, instantly self-conscious of his face when the older appears on screen.</p><p>"<em>You don't need to hide,</em>" San says, flashing a small, dimpled smile. His face, after not being seen so <em>close</em> for so long, propels Wooyoung into another sequence of tears, and immediately San reacts. "<em>Wooyoung</em><em> -- oh my god -- don't cry. Please don't cry.</em>"</p><p>"I'm sorry." Wooyoung rubs his eyes. "Shit, I'm such a loser."</p><p>"<em>You're not a loser,</em>" San refutes in that scolding tone of his. He stares at something before him, all gentle smiles and sunshine yellow turtlenecks, and then the camera moves, capturing the clear blue sky. <em>"I'm taking a walk 'cause it was recommended. The weather's so nice today too. Guess that's what gave me the bravery to finally talk to you. See?</em>" San angles the phone at his face again, and it's now Wooyoung can see the teal coloured streaks in his hair. He feels his throat close up. "<em>The atmosphere's too good right now to feel sad. It's Spring, a new beginning</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung hangs on to San's every word. "Okay. Okay, hyung."</p><p>San looks at him, <em>really looks</em>, and he's so fucking beautiful it worsens the agonizing ache in Woooyoung's heart. "<em>Are you feeling better now</em>?"</p><p>"Y-Yes, I am."</p><p>San bites his lip. "<em>I'm glad</em>."</p><p>"I love you."</p><p>"<em>Wooyoung</em> -- "</p><p>"I love you so much, San. I can't live without you. P-Please," Wooyoung cries, "this can't be it. Fuck, I'm so fucking sorry. I'm so, so sorry for everything I've done."</p><p>San's eyebrows furrow, jaws clenched. He's chewing his lip a lot more now, just like he always does when he's trying to gain control of his emotions. "<em>Wooyoung</em><em>, I can't..."</em></p><p>"Hyung."</p><p>"<em>Wooyoung</em><em>, I'm travelling to Japan in a few days. Don't know how long it'</em><em>ll</em><em> be for, just want to take a break from it all.</em>" San purses his lips, eyes sparkling with tears of their own. He inhales a shallow breath, turning to the side to conceal them.  "<em>Don't look at me like that, Woo. I don't have some terminal illness. I just want to leave the country for a while.</em>"</p><p>Wooyoung's tears flow rapidly, but it doesn't matter how much he cries because San is leaving. He's leaving him behind. "I'm sorry," he mutters, knowing even a thousand more of these won't ever be enough.</p><p>"<em>I'm not mad at you, </em><em>Wooyoung</em><em>. I just want a break, nothin</em><em>g more</em>."</p><p>Wooyoung can't stop weeping, but he tries to keep to together, for San's sake. "Okay."</p><p>"<em>Thank you for understanding.</em>"</p><p>"Of -- of course."</p><p>San smiles, and it's somehow the prettiest one Wooyoung's ever seen on him.</p><p><em>I never knew your true worth until I lost you, and for that I am sorry</em>.</p><p></p><div>
  <p><em><b>fin</b></em>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p><br/><b>a/n</b>: <em>there's an epilogue coming right up + the final author's note, but treat it as an alternate ending because that's honestly just what it is! (the author seriously contemplated just ending the fic here, how cruel are they??)</em></p><p>
  <em>this is the now the longest chapter, nearly 7k omg!! it was also one of the toughest to write in terms of emotions and everything. but thank you all for reading!! see you in the alt ending *cough epilogue cough*!!</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. epilogue: they go back</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>here is the epilogue/alt ending! its much, much shorter than the earlier chapters </em><em>tho</em>, <em>just a </em><em>fair</em> <em>warning</em></p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>
      <em>++ </em>
    </b>
    <b>
      <em>seven months later</em>
    </b>
  </p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Mingi, why are we here again?" Wooyoung asks, arms crossed over his chest as his friend examines the paintings framed on the walls with the pace of a snail. </p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"To admire art with me, duh," the taller man tells him, stroking his chin as he observes the latest painting. It's coated in red, a flurry of black shapes stark against the surface. Apparently, <em>this</em> is considered abstract art, but Wooyoung honestly isn't interested. "I told you we were going to do this like, two days ago."</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung looks around them, watching the others study the many paintings as if they fell from the sky or something. He just doesn't get it. He huffs, annoyance flaring within him. "Guess I forgot, but you can't blame me. I'm so <em>busy</em> these days."</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"Yeah," Mingi snickers, turning to face him with a smile. "Busy booking photoshoots left and right. Ah, the wonders of being pretty <em>and</em> having a unique set of eyes."</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung glares at the man when he affectionately ruffles some of his dyed grey hair. "Mingi, this is <em>assault</em>."</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Mingi gasps, appalled by the younger's choice of words. He soon laughs it off though, beckoning Wooyoung over into a separate section to view even <em>more</em> paintings. <em>Swell</em>. </p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>"I'm particularly <em>excited</em> to see one of these again. Even cleared my schedule for the opening which took place a week ago," Mingi says as he heads down the quiet hall, and Wooyoung leisurely tags along, surveying the architecture of the place. </p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>There's so much <em>space</em>, but the walls are lined with so many art pieces that they make up for it.</p>
</div><p><br/>
"<em>Wooyoung</em>!" Mingi suddenly whisper-yells, earning the shorter's attention. When Wooyoung turns, the man waves him over, the biggest smile on his face.</p><p>"Oh, what is it now -- " Wooyoung halts his groaning just as he notices the painting Mingi's been talking so passionately about.</p><p>In front of him lies something that resembles a fruitful pasture under the moonlight. Then sitting beside it is a boy that's more than half the size of the entire area, only a mere silhouette in the night. But, there are blue butterflies in his hair, the left side of his chest a blazing gold that shines down on a few of the trees below. It's where the flowers grow.</p><p>"Pretty, right?" Mingi voices out at that moment.</p><p>Wooyoung can't help but nod, a little breathless at the intricacy of the painting. It's like each design, down from the shadowed boy to the blooming flowers, and even to the curved moon gleaming on the coloured canvas means <em>something</em>, and Wooyoung wants to find the answer to every single one.</p><p>"Apparently this is the painter's first ever artwork displayed here," Mingi comments, a small smile flitting over his features. "No one knows who they are, but their painting's gained quite a bit of attention."</p><p>Wooyoung tears his gaze away from the painting. "Really?"</p><p>"Mhm."</p><p>"Well, I can see where those people are coming from. It's really..." Wooyoung watches it again, taking in all its details. "It attracts you."</p><p>Mingi hums, looking pleased. He takes a step closer to the framed picture, sucking his lip between his teeth. "There are numbers on it."</p><p>"What?" Wooyoung scoots in, focusing on where Mingi's pointing at. "I don't see anything though."</p><p>"Look harder."</p><p>Wooyoung's about to scoff and roll his eyes at Mingi's <em>highly unhelpful</em> statement, but halts when his eyes pick up on a pattern woven into the pinks and oranges of the vibrant flowers. They're given dimension to look more realistic, but it also draws attention to their shape. Wooyoung can't believe it'd taken him <em>this</em> long to notice. "...Binary."</p><p>Mingi snaps his fingers. "Bingo."</p><p>Wooyoung zooms in on the signature sprawled at the bottom, a tiny splotch of white that doesn't harm the quality of the work in any way. Even the callipgraphy's amazing, despite the size, but it's the content of it that leaves him fumbling for words to say.</p><p><em>MtSn</em>.</p><p>He hears a <em>click</em> next to him, and then Mingi's shoving his phone in his face, nearly blinding him.</p><p>"What the hell?" Wooyoung nearly shouts, risking everyone's eyes on him. "Mingi, are phones even <em>allowed</em>?"</p><p>"I didn't take a picture," Mingi tells him. "But I <em>did</em> put in the numbers on the painting from where they begin. You should really see this."</p><p>Wooyoung hides the phone from view, looking at the screen afterwards. And his jaw fucking <em>drops</em>.</p><p><em>'</em><em>Sunset's Dusk. Before the last leaf drops, I want to see you in person</em>.<em>'</em></p><p>Mingi's grin is far too <em>knowing</em> when their gazes meet.</p><p>"Did you know about this?"</p><p>"<em>What</em>? I'm just smiling for no reason."</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Sunset's Dusk hasn't changed much, save for the <em>CLOSED</em> sign stuck to its front doors, the falling, flaxen leaves and the chaotic breeze that sends chills up Wooyoung's spine. Hyeopjae beach isn't as occupied either, and when Wooyoung peers around him for the umpteenth time without spotting San around, he decides to just <em>stay put </em>and bask in his picturesque surroundings instead, failing to keep his smile off his face.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>A kid rides a bike in front of him, and he cringes at the wide grin he shoots the boy when he wishes him a good morning. <em>What is happening to me?</em></p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Wooyoung can't quench his excitement though, no matter how hard he tries. He's waited <em>so long</em> for this, and after heeding to San's advice of caring for himself, he feels he's more than ready to see him again.</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>- <b>mingiii</b><br/>
<em>is he there yet??</em></p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/>
<em>nope</em></p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>- <b>yeosung</b><br/>
<em>awe that sucks</em></p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>- <b>mingiii</b><br/>
<em>i messaged him though and he said </em><em>hes</em><em> on his way.</em></p>
</div><p><br/>
- <b>mingiii</b><br/>
<em>he just texted me </em><em>rn</em><br/>
<em>said he's planning to stop by a bookstore.</em><br/>
<em>maybe he wants to get you something</em></p><p>- <b>yeosung</b><br/>
<em>thats</em><em> cute, </em><em>ngl</em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/>
<em>why does he keep texting you and not me</em></p><p>- <b>yeosung</b><br/>
<em>maybe he's as nervous as you are</em></p><p>- <b>mingiii</b><br/>
<em>i'</em><em>ll</em><em> send you the address of the store</em><br/>
<em>you can surprise him there</em><br/>
<em>imagine his reaction oh my godd</em></p><p>- <b>wooyoung</b><br/>
<em>sounds like an ok plan</em></p><p>- <b>mingiii</b><br/>
<em>sweet</em>!</p><p>Wooyoung soon figures out why he shouldn't have put his entire trust in Mingi in the first place, because a few minutes into his walk, hefty clouds litter the darkened sky. Then it starts to rain heavily all over, drenching the fabric of Wooyoung's cardigan in seconds.</p><p>Panicked, his eyes dart around the area, searching for a shade of some sort only to find <em>none</em>. The raindrops beat against his skin along with the deafening wind, and <em>fuck</em>, Wooyoung just wants the ground to open up and swallow him <em>now</em>. At least then he won't have to face San looking like a drowned rat --</p><p>Something grabs him at that second, swinging him around like he's in some overproduced, cheesy scene in a kdrama, and then he collides into a chest, feeling his world slow down.</p><p>The rain isn't lashing down on him anymore, but it takes a hot minute for Wooyoung to even <em>register</em> the low pit-a-pat of the rainfall dripping down the transparent material of the umbrella that's now shielding him. All he can see is a pair of eyes staring at him through red-black bangs and a grey designer hood, so familiar yet so <em>novel</em> at the same time.</p><p>"Hey," San greets, his voice easily canceling out everything else in the background.</p><p>Wooyoung's heart races to unspeakable lengths, and he blinks, wondering if this is just a dream. He hopes it isn't. "Hi..."</p><p>"Sorry for not showing up on time," San apologizes. His eyes never leave Wooyoung's face, tracing over his every feature. "The weather's been iffy all morning."</p><p>"Mingi..." Wooyoung has to rack his brain to remember what he wants to say. "Mingi said you went to a bookstore and told me it'd be a good idea to surprise you there."</p><p>San's nose scrunches in confusion. "There aren't any bookstores around here, as far as <em>I</em> can tell."</p><p>Anger Wooyoung should have felt towards Mingi for playing this silly little prank on them subsides as soon as he locks eyes with San once again. "I -- I can't believe you're really here."</p><p>"Me too... I thought you'd get mad at me for contacting you after so much time has passed," San pauses, smiling at the younger man. "You're still so beautiful."</p><p>Heat rushes to Wooyoung's cheeks, which he attempts ignoring. "Trying to flirt with me, I see."</p><p>"I'm just stating the truth." And San means every word. "I really like your grey hair, and you aren't wearing those contacts anymore."</p><p>Wooyoung nods, fighting the urge to pull San close. "Yeah... I finally got tired of hiding. Realized it wasn't worth it."</p><p>San cups his cheek, and Wooyoung melts right into his touch, wanting the man to do <em>much more</em>. But right now, after months and months of San's absence, he's okay with this. He <em>loves</em> it, even.</p><p>"What a creative way to get us to meet up," Wooyoung says after a while of soaking in San's adoring stare. "Binary inside a painting? Who would've ever thought of that?"</p><p>"What can I say?" San laughs, the sound warming Wooyoung's heart. "I'm quite special."</p><p>"You really are."</p><p>San pushes up his right sleeve, and right there is the butterfly bracelet the man gifted to him, except the wings are a darker blue this time. A nervous smile tugs at his lips. "You still have yours with you?"</p><p>"In my pocket," Wooyoung answers, unable to contain his happiness.</p><p>"That's good." San's gaze is <em>so</em> <em>fond</em>, so loving it's kind of surreal at this point. "Let me see."</p><p>Wooyoung looks for it while San continues to hold on to the umbrella, and when he eventually pulls it out, he watches on, stunned as the older man attaches it around his wrist, fingers soft against his skin.</p><p>"Not only are you creative, but you're <em>totally</em> skilled with one hand as well," Wooyoung smirks.</p><p>San snorts at the dirty joke, before staring into the wet street for a moment. "...Would you be okay with me giving you a kiss right now?"</p><p>Wooyoung's heart jumps. <em>Calm the fuck down.</em> "Uh, sure."</p><p>San leans in, and presses a chaste kiss on his forehead. Wooyoung's toes curl at the sensation, his pulse picking up.</p><p>He's blushing again. "I can't stop smiling," he beams.</p><p>"Me neither."</p><p>Wooyoung kisses San a second later, on the lips this time. San gasps, mouth agape as his cheeks swell up with pink.</p><p>"Hey, don't go having a heart attack on me, old man," Wooyoung teases, grinning when San punches his arm.</p><p>"I'm only twenty-six. Not that old."</p><p>"<em>Sure</em>." Wooyoung makes a move to say something else, but San interrupts by kissing him, again and again.</p><p>"I missed you..." San whispers into Wooyoung's neck, his free arm wrapped snugly around his middle. "Even though I tried to act like I didn't and went to Japan, I thought about you every single day."</p><p>"I thought about you too," Wooyoung confesses, a lump growing in his throat. "<em>All the time</em>."</p><p>"I...I know it may be too much to ask right now, but if I said I wanted to try out this dating thing with you again -- without any of the contracts and the CEO thing involved -- would you say yes?"</p><p>Wooyoung looks at the man in front of him, at the man who's made him feel like none other. He stares at the man he loved in the past, still loves, and will most likely spend his future days loving. And he's willing to do all that it takes to keep him around this time, because he truly can't imagine himself falling for anyone else.</p><p>So he grins, a sight much brilliant than the sun now breaking through the thinning clouds.</p><p>"Of course. A million times over. <em>Yes</em>."</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p><b>final author's note</b>: <em>aaaand thats it! thoughts?</em></p>
</div><p><br/>
<em>okay, guys, you finally made it to the end!! thank you so so much for reading, voting, and commenting, and for those who were there from the start, thank you for sticking with this fic throughout.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>now i know this is just some woosan fic you happened to stumble upon to alleviate your boredom for the time being, but it kinda means a lot to me. i wrote a bunch of things in that fic that were quite personal, so what you've just read are pieces of me through my writing that i wanted to share.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>wooyoung's and san's characters here are pretty dear to me. especially wooyoung, since he's like seventy five percent of the person i am, the part of me that's consistently struggled with commitment, my self-image and mental health, while san's the side of me that's impulsive with fluctuating emotions that are hard to control. so i guess i just self-projected at times, but it made this whole experience a lot more fun and eye-opening. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>i hope this fic touched you as much as it touched me, and thank you for your continuous support. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>&lt;33</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>